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ADVERTISEMENT. 

V 1 odi HO 4£i!T 0£;il boii / 


Messrs. Wells and Lilly propose to publish a 
Series of Five Dissertations, prefixed to the Sup¬ 
plementary Volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. 
These will be printed in a type and paper uniform 
with their edition of Stewart’s Elements of the 
Philosophy of the Human Mind . This Dissertation 
forms the first of a Series of similar Discourses, 
whose object is, to exhibit a rapid view of the pro¬ 
gress made since the revival of Letters in Europe, 
first, in those branches of knowledge which relate 
to Mind, and next, in those which relate to Matter. 
In so far as regards the Philosophy of Mind, and 
its kindred branches, this historical sketch is brought 
down, in the present Dissertation , to the beginning 
of the last century; and the inquiry will be conclud¬ 
ed in another Dissertation. 




ADVERTISEMENT. 


The Dissertations by Professor Playfair contain 
a similar view of the Progress of the Mathematical 
and Physical Sciences. The first of these has been 
received, and is now in the press. 

The two succeeding Dissertations by Professors 
Playfair and Stewart, and also that on the History 
of Chemical Discovery and Chemical Theory, by 
Mr. William Thomas Brande , will be published as 
soon as received from Europe. 


Boston, June 1817. 


DISSERTATION FIRST: 


EXHIBITING A GENERAL VIEW OP THE 

progress of 8©etapi)i>tftcal, CEtfncal, anfi 
Political psilooopljg, 

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SINCE THE REVIVAL OF LETTERS IN EUROPE. 


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BY DUGALD STEWART, Esq. 


F. R. SS. London and Edinburgh, 8cc. Etc. 








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PREFACE 


TO THE 

FIRST DISSERTATION, 

CONTAINING SOME CRITICAL REMARKS ON THE DISCOURSE PREFIXED 
TO THE FRENCH ENCYCLOPE DIE. 


When I ventured to undertake the task of contributing 
a Preliminary Dissertation to these Supplemental Volumes 
of the Encyclopaedia Britannic a, my original intention 
was, after the example of D’Alembert, to have begun with 
a general survey of the various departments of human 
knowledge. The outline of such a survey, sketched by 
the comprehensive genius of Bacon, together with the cor¬ 
rections and improvements suggested by his illustrious dis¬ 
ciple, would, I thought, have rendered it comparatively 
easy to adapt their intellectual map to the present advanc¬ 
ed state of the sciences ; while the unrivalled authority 
which their united work has long maintained in the repub- 
lick of letters, would, I flattered myself, have softened those 
criticisms which might be expected to be incurred by any 
similar attempt of a more modern hand. On a closer exami¬ 
nation, however, of their labours, I found myself under the 
necessity of abandoning this design. Doubts immediately 
occurred to me with respect to the justness of their logical 
views, and soon terminated in a conviction, that these views 
are radically and essentially erroneous. Instead, therefore, 



6 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


of endeavouring to give additional currency to speculations 
which 1 conceived to be fundamentally unsound, 1 resolved 
to avail myself of the present opportunity to point out their 
most important defects ;—defects which, I am nevertheless 
very ready to acknowledge, it is much more easy to remark 
than to supply. The critical strictures which, in the course 
of this discussion, I shall have occasion to offer on my pre¬ 
decessors, will, at the same time, account for my forbearing 
to substitute a new map of my own, instead of that to which 
the names of Bacon and D’Alembert have lent so great 
and so well-merited a celebrity ; and may perhaps suggest 
a doubt, whether the period be yet arrived for hazarding 
again, with any reasonable prospect of success, a repetition 
of their bold experiment. For the length to which these 
strictures are likely to extend, the only apology I have to 
offer is the peculiar importance of the questions to which 
they relate, and the high authority of the writers whose 
opinions 1 presume to controvert. 

Before entering on his main subject, D’Alembert is at 
pains to explain a distinction, which he represents as of con¬ 
siderable importance—between the Genealogy of the scien¬ 
ces, and the Encyclopedical arrangement of the objects 
of human knowledge. *- “ In examining the former,” he ob¬ 
serves, “our aim is, by remounting to the origin and gene¬ 
sis of our ideas, to trace the causes to which the sciences 
owe their birth ; and to mark the characteristicks by which 
they are distinguished from each other. In order to ascertain 
the latter, it is necessary to comprehend, in one general 
scheme , all the various departments of study ; to arrange 
them into proper classes ; and to point out their mutual re¬ 
lations and dependencies.” Such a scheme is sometimes 

1 “ II ne faut pas confondre l’ordre Encyclopedique des con- 
noissances humaines avec la Genealogie des Sciences.” Aver 
tissement, p. 7. 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 7 

likened by D’Alembert to a map or chart of the intellectu¬ 
al world ; sometimes to a Genealogical 1 or Encyclopedical 
Tree, indicating the manifold and complicated affinities of 
those studies, which, however apparently remote and urn 
connected, are all the common offspring of the human under¬ 
standing. For executing successfully this chart.or tree, a 
philosophical delineation of the natural progress of the mind 
may (according to him) furnish very useful lights ; although 
he acknowledges that the results of the two undertakings 
cannot fail to differ widely in many instances,—the laws 
which regulate the generation of our ideas often interfering 
with that systematical order in the relative arrangement of 
scientifick pursuits, which it is the purpose of the Encyclo¬ 
pedical Tree to exhibit . 2 

In treating of the first of these subjects, it cannot be de¬ 
nied, that D’Alembert has displayed much ingenuity and 

1 It is to be regretted, that the epithet Genealogical should 
have been employed on this occasion, where the author’s wish 
was to contradistinguish the idea denoted by it, from that his¬ 
torical view of the sciences to which the word Genealogy had 
been previously applied. 

2 The true reason of this might perhaps have been assigned 
in simpler terms, by remarking, that the order of invention is, in 
most cases, the reverse of that fitted for didactick communica¬ 
tion. This observation applies not only to the analytical and 
synthetical processes of the individual; but to the progressive im¬ 
provements of the species , when compared with the arrangements 
prescribed by logical method, for conveying a knowledge of 
them to students. In an enlightened age, the sciences are justly 
considered as the basis of the arts; and, in a course of liberal 
education, the former are always taught prior to the latter. But, 
in the order of invention and discovery, the arts preceded the 
sciences. Men measured laud before they studied speculative 
geometry; and governments were established before politicks 
were studied as a science. A remark somewhat similar is made 
by Celsus, concerning the history of medicine: “ Non medici- 
nam rationi esse posteriorem, sed post medicinam inventam, 
rationem esse quaesitam.” 


8 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


invention ; but the depth and solidity of his general train of 
thought may be questioned. On various occasions, he has 
evidently suffered himself to be misled by a spirit of false 
refinement; and on others, where probably he was fully 
aware of his inability to render the theoretical chain com¬ 
plete, he seems to have aimed at concealing from his read¬ 
ers the faulty links, by availing himself of those epigram- 
matick points, and other artifices of style, with which the 
genius of the French language enables a skilful writer to 
smooth and varnish over his most illogical transitions. 

The most essential imperfections, however, of this hisr 
torical sketch, may be fairly ascribed to a certain vague¬ 
ness and indecision in the author’s idea, with regard to the 
scope of his inquiries. What he has in general pointed at, 
is to trace, from the theory of the Mind, and from the or¬ 
der followed by nature in the development of its powers, 
the successive steps by which the curiosity may be con¬ 
ceived to have been gradually conducted from one intel¬ 
lectual pursuit to another ; but, in the execution of this de¬ 
sign (which in itself is highly philosophical and interesting,) 
he does not appear to have paid due attention to the essential 
difference between the history of the human species, and that 
of the civilized and inquisitive individual. The former was 
undoubtedly that which principally figured in his concep¬ 
tions ; and to which, I apprehend, he ought to have con¬ 
fined himself exclusively ; whereas, in fact, he has so com¬ 
pletely blended the two subjects together, that it is often 
impossible to say which of them was uppermost in his 
thoughts. The consequence is, that, instead of throwing 
upon either those strong and steady lights, which might 
have been expected from his powers, he has involved both 
in additional obscurity. This indistinctness is more pecu¬ 
liarly remarkable in the beginning of his Discourse, where 
he represents men in the earliest infancy of science, before 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


9 


they had time to take any precautions for securing the 
means of their subsistence, or of their safety,—as philoso¬ 
phizing on their sensations,—on the existence of their own 
bodies,—and on that of the material world. His Discourse, 
accordingly, sets out with a series of Meditations, precise¬ 
ly analogous to those which form the introduction to the 
philosophy of Descartes; meditations which, in the order 
of time, have been uniformly posterior to the study of ex¬ 
ternal nature ; and which, even in such an age as the pre¬ 
sent, are confined to a comparatively small number of re¬ 
cluse metaphysicians. 

Of this sort of conjectural or theoretical history, the 
most unexceptionable specimens which haye yet appeared, 
are indisputably the fragments in Mr. Smith’s posthumous 
work on the History of Astronomy, and on that of the An¬ 
cient Systems of Physicks and Metaphysicks. That, in 
the latter of these, he may have occasionally accommodated 
his details to his own peculiar opinions concerning the ob¬ 
ject of Philosophy, may perhaps, with some truth, be alleg¬ 
ed; but he must at least be allowed the merit of completely 
avoiding the errour by which D’Alembert was misled ; and, 
even in those instances where he himself seems to wander 
a little from the right path, of furnishing his successors with 
a thread, leading by easy and almost insensible steps, from 
the first gross perceptions of sense, to the most abstract re¬ 
finements of the Grecian schools. Nor is this the only 
praise to which these fragments are entitled. By seizing on 
the different points of view from whence the same object 
was contemplated by different sects, they often bestow a 
certain degree of unity and of interest on what before seem¬ 
ed calculated merely to bewilder and to confound ; and ren¬ 
der the apparent aberrations and caprices of the understands 
irjg, subservient to the study of its operations and laws. 


10 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


To the foregoing strictures on D’Alembert’s view of the 
origin of the sciences, it may be added, that this introduc¬ 
tory part of his Discourse does not seem to have any im¬ 
mediate connexion with the sequel. We are led, indeed, 
to expect, that it is to prepare the way for the study of the 
Encyclopedical Tree afterwards to be exhibited ; but in this 
expectation we are completely disappointed ;—no refer¬ 
ence to it whatever being made by the author in the farther 
prosecution of his subject. It forms, accordingly, a por¬ 
tion of his Discourse altogether foreign to the general de¬ 
sign ; while, from the metaphysical obscurity which per¬ 
vades it, the generality of readers are likely to receive an 
impression, either unfavourable to the perspicuity of the 
writer, or to their own powers of comprehension and of 
reasoning. It were to be wished, therefore, that, instead of 
occupying the first pages of the Encyclopedic , it had been 
reserved for a separate article in the body of that work. 
There it might have been read by the logical student, with 
no small interest and advantage ; for, with all its imperfec¬ 
tions, it bears numerous and precious marks of its author’s 
hand. 

In delineating his Encyclopedical Tree, D’Alembert 
has, in my opinion, been still more unsuccessful than in the 
speculations which have been hitherto under our review. 
His veneration for Bacon seems, on this occasion, to have 
prevented him from giving due scope to his own powerful 
and fertile genius, and has engaged him in the fruitless task 
of attempting, by means of arbitrary definitions, to draw a 
veil over incurable defects and blemishes. In this part of 
Bacon’s logick, it must, at the same time, be owned, that 
there is something peculiarly captivating to the fancy ; and, 
accordingly, it has united in its favour the suffrages of al¬ 
most all the succeeding authors who have treated of the 
same subject. It will be necessary for me, therefore, to 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


11 


explain fully the grounds of that censure, which, in opposi¬ 
tion to so many illustrious names, 1 have presumed to be¬ 
stow on it. 

Of the leading ideas to which I more particularly object, 
the following statement is given by D’Alembert. I quote 
it in preference to the corresponding passage in Bacon, as 
it contains various explanatory clauses and glosses, for 
which we are indebted to the ingenuity of the commenta¬ 
tor. 

“ The objects about which our minds are occupied, are 
either spiritual or material, and the media employed for 
this purpose are our ideas, either directly received, or de¬ 
rived from reflection. The system of our direct know¬ 
ledge consists entirely in the passive and mechanical accu¬ 
mulation of the particulars it comprehends ; an accumula¬ 
tion which belongs exclusively to the province of Me¬ 
mory. Reflection is of two kinds, according as it is employ¬ 
ed in reasoning on the objects of our direct ideas, or in 
studying them as models for imitation. 

“ Thus, Memory, Reason, strictly so called, and Imagi¬ 
nation, are the three modes in which the mind operates on 
the subjects of its thoughts. By Imagination, however, is 
here to be understood, not the faculty of conceiving or re¬ 
presenting to ourselves what we have formerly perceived, 
a faculty which differs in nothing from the memory of these 
perceptions, and which, if it were not relieved by the in¬ 
vention of signs, would be in a state of continual exercise. 
The power which we denote by this name has a nobler pro¬ 
vince allotted to it, that of rendering imitation subservient 
to the creations of genius. 

“ These three faculties suggest a corresponding division 
of human knowledge into three branches, 1, History, 
which derives its materials from Memory ; 2, Philosophy, 
which is the product of Reason; and 3, Poetry (compre- 


12 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


hending under this title all the Fine Arts,) which is the 
offspring of Imagination. 1 If we place Reason before Ima¬ 
gination, it is because this order appears to us conformable 
to the natural progress of our intellectual operations. 2 
The Imagination is a creative faculty, and the mind, before 
it attempts to create, begins by reasoning upon what it sees 
and knows. Nor is this alb In the faculty of Imagination, 
both Reason and Memory are, to a certain extent, com¬ 
bined,—the mind never imagining or creating objects but 
such as are analogous to those whereof it has had previous 
experience. Where this analogy is wanting, the combina¬ 
tions are extravagant and displeasing ; and, consequently, 
in that agreeable imitation of nature, at which the fine arts 
aim in common, invention is necessarily subjected to the 
control of rules which it is the business of the philosopher 
to investigate. 

“ In farther justification of this arrangement, it may be 
remarked, that Reason, in the course of its successive 

1 The latitude given by D’Alembert to the meaning of the word 
Poetry is a real and very important improvement on Bacon, who 
restricts it to fictitious History or Fables. (Dc Aug. Scient. Lib. 
ii. cap. i.) D’Alembert, on the other hand, employs it in its natu¬ 
ral signification, as synonymous with invention or creation. “ La 
Peinture, la Sculpture, 1’Architecture, la Poesie, la Musique, et 
leurs differentes divisions, composent la troisieme distribution 
generate qui nait de I’lmagination, et dont les parties sont com¬ 
prises sous le nom de Beaux-Arts. On peut les rapporter tous 
a la Poesie, en prenant c.e mot dans sa signification naturelle, 
qui n’est autre chose qu’inveution ou creation.” 

2 In placing Reason before Imagination, D’Alembert departs 
from the order in which these faculties are arranged by Bacon. 
“ Si nous n’avons pas place, comme lui, la Raison apres (’Imagi¬ 
nation, c’est que nous avons suivi, dans le systeme Encyclopedi- 
que, l’ordre metaphysique des operations de I’esprit, plutot que 
l’ordre historique de ses progres depuis la renaissance des let- 
trcs.”— [Disc. Prelim.) How far the motive here assigned for 
the change is valid, the reader will be enabled to judge from the 
sequel of the above quotation. 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


13 


operations on the subjects of thought, by creating abstract 
and general ideas, remote from the perceptions of sense, 
leads to the exercise of Imagination as the last step of the 
process. Thus metaphysicks and geometry are, of all the 
sciences belonging to Reason, those in which Imagination 
has the greatest share. I ask pardon for this observation 
from those men of taste, who, little aware of the near affini¬ 
ty of geometry to their own pursuits, and still less suspect¬ 
ing that the only intermediate step between them is formed 
by metaphysicks, are disposed to employ their wit in de¬ 
preciating its value. The truth is, that, to the geometer 
who invents, Imagination is not less essential than to the 
poet who creates. They operate, indeed, differently on 
their object, the former abstracting and analyzing, where 
the latter combines and adorns ;—two processes of the 
mind, it must, at the same time, be confessed, which seem 
from experience to be so little congenial, that it may be 
doubted if the talents of a great geometer and of a great 
poet will ever be united in the same person. But, whether 
these talents be, or be not mutually exclusive, certain it is, 
that they who possess the one, have no right to despise 
those who cultivate the other. Of all the great men of 
antiquity, Archimedes is perhaps he wlTb is the best entitled 
to be placed by the side of Homer.” 

D’Alembert afterwards proceeds to observe, that of 
these three general branches of the Encyclopedical Tree, 
a natural and convenient subdivision is afforded by the 
metaphysical distribution of things into Material and Spi¬ 
ritual. “ With these two classes of existences,” he ob¬ 
serves farther, “ history and philosophy are equally con¬ 
versant ; but as for the Imagination , her imitations are 
entirely confined to the material world ;—a circumstance,” 
he adds, “ which conspires with the other arguments above 
stated, in justifying Bacon for assigning to her the last 

3 


14 PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION*. 

place in his enumeration of our intellectual faculties. 5 ’ 1 
Upon this subdivision he enlarges at some length, and with 
considerable ingenuity ; but on the present occasion it would 
be quite superfluous to follow him any farther, as more than 
enough has been already quoted <o enable my readers to 
judge, whether the objections which I am now to state to 
the foregoing extracts be as sound and decisive as I appre¬ 
hend them to be. 

Of these objections a very obvious one is suggested by 
a consideration, of which D’Alembert himself has taken 
notice,—that the three faculties to which he refers the 
whole operations of the understanding are perpetually blend¬ 
ed together in their actual exercise, insomuch that there is 
scarcely a branch of human knowledge which does not, in 
a greater or less degree, furnish employment to them 
all. It may be said, indeed, that some pursuits exercise 
and invigorate particular faculties more than others ; that 
the study of History, for example, although it may occa¬ 
sionally require the aid both of Reason and of Imagination, 
yet chiefly furnishes occupation to the Memory ; and that 
this is sufficient to justify the logical division of our mental 
powers as the groundwork of a corresponding Encyclope¬ 
dical classification. 2 This, however, will be found more 

1 In this exclusive limitation of the province of Imagination 
to things Material and Sensible, D’Alembert has followed the 
definition given by Descartes in his second Meditation; “ Itna- 
ginari nihil aliud cst , quam rci corporece figuram seu imaginem 
contemplari —a power of the mind, which (as I have elsewhere 
observed) appears to me to be most precisely expressed in our 
language by the word Conception. The province assigned to Ima¬ 
gination by D’Alembert is more extensive than this, for he as¬ 
cribes to her also a creative and combining pqwer; but still his 
definition agrees with that of Descartes, inasmuch as it excludes 
entirely from her dominion both the intellectual and the moral 
worlds. 

2 1 allude here to the following apology for Bacon, suggested 
by a very learned and judicious writer:— 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


15 


tipecious than solid. In what respects is the faculty of 
Memory more essentially necessary to the student of his¬ 
tory than to the philosopher or to the poet; and, on the 
other hand, of what value, in the circle of the sciences, 
would be a collection of historical details, accumulated with¬ 
out discrimination, without a scrupulous examination of 
evidence, or without any attempt to compare and to general¬ 
ize ? For the cultivation of that species of history, in par¬ 
ticular, which alone deserves a place in the Encyclopedi¬ 
cal Tree, it may be justly affirmed, that the rarest and most 
comprehensive combination of all our mental gifts is indis¬ 
pensably requisite. 

Another, and a still more formidable objection to Bacon’s 
classification, may be derived from the very imperfect and 
partial analysis of the mind which it assumes as its basis. 
Why were the powers of Abstraction and Generalization 
passed over in silence ?—powers which, according as they 
are cultivated or neglected, constitute the most essential of 
all distinctions between the intellectual characters of indi¬ 
viduals. A corresponding distinction, too, not less impor¬ 
tant, may be remarked among the objects of human study, 
according as our aim is to treasure up particular facts, or 
to establish general conclusions. Does not this distinction 
mark out, with greater precision, the limits which separate 
philosophy from mere historical narrative, than that which 
turns upon the different provinces of Reason and of Me¬ 
mory T 

“ On a fait cependant a Bacon quelques reproches assez fon- 
des. On a observe que sa classification des sciences repose sur 
une distinction qui n’est pas rigoureuse, puisque la memoire, la 
raison, et (’imagination concourent necessairement dans chaque 
art, comme dans chaque science. Mais on peut repondre, que 
l’un ou I’autre de ces trois facultes, quoique secondee par les deux 
autres, peut cependant jouer le role principal. En prenant la 
distinction de Bacon dans ce sens, sa classification reste exacte, 
et devient trcs utile.”—(Degerando, Hist. Comp. Tome I, p. 298.) 


iG PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


I shall only add one other criticism on this celebrated 
enumeration, and that is, its want of distinctness, in con¬ 
founding together the Sciences and the Arts under the 
same general titles. Hence a variety of those capricious 
arrangements, which must immediately strike every reader 
who follows Bacon through his details ; the reference, for 
instance, of the Mechanical arts to the department of His¬ 
tory ; and consequently, according to his own analysis of 
the Mind, the ultimate reference of these arts to the facul¬ 
ty of Memory : while, at the same time, in his tripartite di¬ 
vision of the whole field of human knowledge, the art of 
Poetry has one entire province allotted to itself. 

These objections apply in common to Bacon and to 
D’Alembert. That which follows has a particular reference 
to a passage already cited from the latter, where, by some 
false refinements concerning the nature and functions of 
Imagination, he has rendered the classification of his pre¬ 
decessor incomparably more indistinct and illogical than it 
seemed to be before. 

That all the creations, or new combinations of Imagina¬ 
tion, imply the previous process of decomposition or ana¬ 
lysis, is abundantly manifest; and, therefore, without de¬ 
parting from the common and popular use of language, it 
may undoubtedly be said, that the faculty of abstraction 
is not less essential to the Poet, than to the Geometer and the 
Metaphysician . 1 But this is not the doctrine of D’Alem- 

1 This assertion must, however, be understood with some qua¬ 
lifications; for, although the Poet, as well as the Geometer and 
the Metaphysician, be perpetually called upon to decompose, by 
means of abstraction, the complicated objects of perception, it 
must not be concluded that the abstractions of all the three are 
exactly of the same kind. Those of the Poet amount to noth¬ 
ing more than to a separation into parts of the realities present¬ 
ed to his senses; which separation is only a preliminary step to 
a subsequent recomposition into new and ideal forms of the things 
abstracted ; whereas the abstractions of the Metaphysician and 
of the Geometer form the very objects of their respective scien- 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


17 


bert. On the contrary, he affirms, that Metaphysicks and 
Geometry are, of all the sciences connected with reason, those 
in which Imagination has the greatest share ; an assertion 
which, it will not be disputed, has at first sight somewhat 
of the air of a paradox ; and which, on closer examination, 
will, I apprehend, be found altogether inconsistent with 
fact. If indeed D’Alembert had, in this instance, used 
(as some writers have done) the word Imagination as syno¬ 
nymous with Invention, I should not have thought it worth 
while (at least so far as the geometer is concerned) to dis¬ 
pute his proposition. But that this was not the meaning 
annexed to it by the author, appears from a subsequent 
clause, where ha tells us, that the most refined operations 
of reason, consisting in the creation of generals which do 
not fall under the cognizance of our senses, naturally lead 
to the exercise of imagination. His doctrine, therefore, 
goes to the identification of Imagination with Abstraction ; 
two faculties so very different in the direction which they 
give to our thoughts, that (according to his own acknow¬ 
ledgment) the man who is habitually occupied in exerting 
the one, seldom fails to impair both his capacity and his 
relish for the exercise of the other. 

This identification of two faculties, so strongly contrast¬ 
ed in their characteristical features, was least of all to be 
expected from a logician, who had previously limited the 
province of Imagination to the imitation of material objects ; 
a limitation, it may be remarked in passing, which is nei¬ 
ther sanctioned by common use, nor by just views of the 
philosophy of the Mind. Upon what ground can it be 
alleged, that Milton’s portrait of Satan’s intellectual and 
moral character was not the offspring of the same creative 
faculty which gave birth to his Garden of Eden l After 
such a definition, however, it is difficult to conceive, how 
so very acute a writer should have referred to imagination 
the abstractions of the geometer and of the metaphysician ; 


18 PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


and still more, that he should have attempted to justify this 
reference, by observing, that these abstractions do not fall 
under the cognizance of the senses. My own opinion is, 
that, in the composition of the whole passage, he had a 
view to the unexpected parallel between Homer and Archi¬ 
medes, with which he meant, at the close, to surprise his 
readers. 

If the foregoing strictures be well founded, it seems to 
follow, not only that the attempt of Bacon and of D’Alem¬ 
bert, to classify the sciences and arts according to a logi¬ 
cal division of our faculties, is altogether unsatisfactory ; 
but that every future attempt of the same kind may be ex¬ 
pected to be liable to similar objections. In studying, in¬ 
deed, the Theory of the Mind, it is necessary to push our 
analysis as far as the nature of the subject admits of; and, 
wherever the thing is possible, to examine its constituent 
principles separately and apart from each other: but this 
consideration itself, when combined with what was before 
stated on the endless variety of forms in which they may 
be blended together in our various intellectual pursuits, is 
sufficient to show how ill adapted such an analysis must for¬ 
ever remain to serve as the basis of an Encyclopedical 
distribution . 1 


1 In justice to the authors of the Encyclopedical Tree prefix¬ 
ed to the French Dictionary, it ought to be observed, that it is 
spoken of by D’Alembert, in his Preliminary Discourse, with 
the utmost modesty and diffidence; and that he has expressed, 
not only his own conviction, but that of his colleague, of the im¬ 
possibility of executing such a task in a manner likely to satis¬ 
fy the publick. “ Nous sommes trop convaincus de l’arbitraire 
qui regnera toujours dans une pareille division, pour croire que 
notre systeme soit l’unique ou le meilleure; il nous suffira que 
notre travail ne soit pas entierement desapprouve par les bons es- 
prits.) And, some pages afterwards, “ Si le public eclaire donne 
son approbation a ces changemens, elle sera la recompense de 
notre docilite; et s’il ne les approuve pas, nous n’en serons que 
plus convaincus de I’impossibilite de former un Arbre Encyclo 
pedique qui soit au gre de tout le monde.” 


Preface to the first dissertation. 19 

The circumstance to which this part of Bacon’s philo¬ 
sophy is chiefly indebted for its popularity, is the specious 
simplicity and comprehensiveness of the distribution itself; 
—not the soundness of the logical views by which it was 
suggested. That all our intellectual pursuits may be re¬ 
ferred to one or other of these three heads, History, Phi¬ 
losophy, and Poetry, may undoubtedly be said with con¬ 
siderable plausibility ; the word History being understood 
to comprehend all our knowledge of particular facts and 
particular events ; the word Philosophy, all the general con¬ 
clusions or laws inferred from these particulars by induc¬ 
tion ; and the word Poetry, all the arts addressed to the 
Imagination. Not that the enumeration, even with the help 
of this comment, can be considered as complete, for (to 
pass over entirely the other objections already stated) under 
which of these three heads shall we arrange the various 
branches of pure mathematicks ? 

Are we therefore to conclude, that the magnificent de¬ 
sign, conceived by Bacon, of enumerating, defining, and 
classifying the multifarious objects of human knowledge; 
(a design, on the successful accomplishment *f which he 
himself believed that the advancement of the sciences essen¬ 
tially depended)—Are we to conclude, that this design was 
nothing more than the abortive offspring of a warm imagi¬ 
nation, unsusceptible of any useful application to enlighten 
the mind, or to accelerate its progress? My own idea is 
widely different. The design was, in every respect, wor 
thy of the sublime genius by which it was formed. Nor 
does it follow, because the execution was imperfect, that the 
attempt has been attended with no advantage. At the period 
when Bacon wrote, it was of much more consequence to ex¬ 
hibit to the learned a comprehensive sketch,than an accurate 
survey of the intellectual world ;—such a sketch as, by 
pointing out to those whose views had been hitherto confin¬ 
ed within the limits of particular regions, the relative posi- 


20 PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 

lions and bearings of their respective districts, as parts of 
one great whole, might invite them all, for the common 
benefit, to a reciprocal exchange of their local riches. The 
societies or academies which, soon after, sprung up in differ¬ 
ent countries of Europe, for the avowed purpose of con¬ 
tributing to the general mass of information, by the collec¬ 
tion of insulated facts, conjectures, and queries, afford suffi¬ 
cient proof, that the anticipations of Bacon were not, in this 
instance, altogether chimerical. 

In examining the details of Bacon’s survey, it is impossi¬ 
ble not to be struck (more especially when we reflect on 
the state of learning two hundred years ago) with the mi¬ 
nuteness of his information, as well as with the extent of his 
views ; or to forbear admiring his sagacity in pointing out, 
to future adventurers, the unknown tracks still left to be 
explored bj* human curiosity. If his classifications be some¬ 
times artificial and arbitrary, they have at least the merit 
of including, under one head or another, every particular 
of importance ; and of exhibiting these particulars with a 
degree of method and of apparent connexion, which, if it 
does not always satisfy the judgment, never fails to interest 
the fancy, and to lay hold of the memory. Nor must it be 
forgotten, to the glory of his genius, that what he failed to 
accomplish remains to this day a desideratum in science,— 
that the intellectual chart delineated by him is, with all its 
imperfections, the only one of which modern philosophy 
has yet to boast;—and that the united talents of D’Alem¬ 
bert and of Diderot, aided by all the lights of the eigh¬ 
teenth century, have been able to add but little to what 
Bacon performed. 

After the foregoing observations, it will not be expected 
that an attempt is to be made, in the following Essay, to 
solve a problem which has so recently baffled the powers 
of these eminent writers ; and which will probably long 
continue to exercise the ingenuity of our successors. How 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


21 


much remains to be previously done for the improvement 
of that part of Logick, whose province it is to fix the limits 
by which contiguous departments of study are defined and 
separated ! And how many unsuspected affinities may be 
reasonably presumed to exist among sciences, which, to 
our circumscribed views, appear at present the most alien 
from each other! The abstract geometry of Apollonius 
and Archimedes was found, after an interval of two thou¬ 
sand years, to furnish a torch to the physical inquiries of 
Newton ; while, in the further progress of knowledge, the 
Etymology of Languages has been happily employed to fill 
up the chasms of Ancient History ; and the conclusions of 
Comparative Anatomy to illustrate the Theory of the 
Earth. For my own part, even if the task were executed 
with the most complete success, I should be strongly inclin¬ 
ed to think, that its appropriate place in an Encyclopaedia 
would be as a branch of the article on Logick ;—certainly 
not as an exordium to the Preliminary Discourse; the en¬ 
larged and refined views, which it necessarily presupposes, 
being peculiarly unsuitable to that part of the work which 
may be expected, in the first instance, to attract the curiosity 
of every reader. As, upon this point, however, there 
may be some diversity of opinion, I have prevailed on the 
Editor to add to these introductory Essays a translation of 
D’Alembert’s Discourse, and of Diderot’s Prospectus. 
No English version of either has, as far as I know, been 
hitherto published ; and the result of their joint ingenuity, 
exerted on Bacon’s groundwork, must for ever fix no in¬ 
considerable era in the history of learning. 

Before concluding this preface, I shall subjoin a few slight 
strictures on a very concise and comprehensive division of 
the objects of Human Knowledge, proposed by Mr. Locke, 
as the basis of a new classification of the sciences. Al¬ 
though I do not know that any attempt has ever been made 
4 


22 PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 

to follow out in detail the general idea, yet the repeated 
approbation which has been lately bestowed on a division 
essentially the same, by several writers of the highest rank, 
renders it in some measure necessary, on the present occa¬ 
sion, to consider how far it is founded on just principles *, 
more especially as it is completely at variance, not only 
with the language and arrangement adopted in these preli¬ 
minary essays, but with the whole of that plan on which 
the original projectors, as well as the continuators, of the 
Encyclopaedia Britannica, appear to have proceeded. 
These strictures will, at the same time, afford an additional 
proof of the difficulty, or rather of the impossibility, in the 
actual state of logical science, of solving this great pro¬ 
blem, in a manner calculated to unite the general suffrages of 
philosophers. 

“ All that can fall,” says Mr. Locke, “ within the com¬ 
pass of Human Understanding being either, first, The na¬ 
ture of things as they are in themselves, their relations, 
and their manner of operation; or, secondly, That which 
man himself ought to do, as a rational and voluntary agent, 
for the attainment of any end, especially happiness; or, 
thirdly, The ways and means whereby the knowledge of 
both the one and the other of these is attained and communi¬ 
cated : I think science may be divided properly into these 
three sorts: 

“ 1, Qvrm, or Natural Philosophy. The end of this 
is bare speculative truth ; and whatsoever can afford the 
mind of man any such, falls under this branch, whether it be 
God himself, angels, spirits, bodies, or any of their affec¬ 
tions, as number and figure, &c. 

“ 2, u^otKTtKvtf The skill of right applying our own pow¬ 
ers and actions for the attainment of things good and use¬ 
ful. The most considerable under this head is Etliicks 9 
which is the seeking out those rules and measures of human 
actions which lead to happiness, and the means to practise 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 23 

them. The end of this is not bare speculation, but right, 
and a conduct suitable to it. 1 

“ 3, or the doctrine of signs , the most usual 

whereof being words, it is aptly enough termed also 
Logick. The business of this is, to consider the nature of 
signs the mind makes use of for the understanding of things, 
or conveying its knowledge to others. 

“This seems to me,” continues Mr. Locke, “thefirst 
and most general , as well as natural , division of the ob¬ 
jects of our understanding ; for a man can employ his 
thoughts about nothing but either the contemplation of 
things themselves, for the discovery of truth, or about the 
things in his own power, which are his own actions , for the 
attainment of his own ends ; or the signs the mind makes 
use of, both in one and the other, and the right ordering of 
them for its clearer information. All which three, viz. 
things as they are in themselves knowable ; actions as they 
depend on us, in order to happiness ; and the right use of 
signs , in order to knowledge; being toto coelo different, they 
seemed to me to be the three great provinces of the intellec¬ 
tual world, wholly separate and distinct one from another.” 2 

From the manner in which Mr. Locke expresses himself 
in the above quotation, he appears evidently to have con¬ 
sidered the division proposed in it as an original idea of his 
own; and yet the truth is, that it coincides exactly with 
what was generally adopted by the philosophers of an¬ 
cient Greece. “The ancient Greek Philosophy,” says 

1 From this definition it appears, that, as Locke included under 
the title of Physicks, not only Natural Philosophy, properly so 
called, but Natural Theology, and the Philosophy of the Human 
Mind, so he meant to refer to the head of Practicks , not only 
Ethicks , but all the various 4rts of life, both mechanical and 
liberal. 

2 See the concluding chapter of the Essay on Human Under¬ 
standing , entitled, “ Of the Division of the Sciences ” 


24 PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 

Mr. Smith, J< was divided into three great branches, Phy- 
sicks, or Natural Philosophy ; Ethicks, or Moral Philo¬ 
sophy ; and Logick. This general division ,” he adds, 
t( seems perfectly agreeable to the nature of things.” Mr. 
Smith afterwards observes, in strict conf>rmity to Locke a 
definitions, (of which, however, he seems to have had no 
recollection when he wrote this passage) “ That, as the 
human mind and the Deity, in whatever their essence may 
be supposed to consist, are parts of the great system of the 
universe, and parts, too, productive of the most important 
effects, whatever was taught in the ancient schools of 
Greece concerning their nature, made a part of the system 
of physicks.” 1 

Dr. Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetorick, has borrow¬ 
ed from the Grecian schools the same very extensive use of the 
words physicks and physiology, which he employs as syno¬ 
nymous terras ; comprehending under this title “ not merely 
Natural History, Astronomy, Geography, Mechanicks, Op- 
ticks, Hydrostaticks, Meteorology, Medicine, Chemistry, 
but also Natural Theology and Psychology, which,” he ob¬ 
serves, “have been, in his opinion, most unnaturally disjoined 
from Physiology by Philosophers.” “ Spirit,” he adds, 
“ which here comprises only the Supreme Being and the 
Human soul, is surely as much included under the notion of 
natural objects as body is ; and is knowable to the philosopher 
purely in the same way, by observation and experience.” 3 

A similar train of thinking led the late celebrated M. 
Turgot to comprehend under the name of Physicks, not 
only Natural Philosophy (as that phrase is understood by 

1 Wealth of Nations , Book v, chap. i. 

3 Philosophy of Rhetorick> Book i, chap, v, Part iii, § L 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 25 

the Newtonians) but Metaphysicks, Logick, and even 
History. * 

Notwithstanding all this weight of authority, it is difficult 
to reconcile one’s self to an arrangement which, while it class¬ 
es with Astronomy, withMechanicks, with Opiicks,and with 
Hydrostaticks, the strikingly contrasted studies of Natural 
Theology and of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, dis¬ 
unites from the two last the far more congenial sciences of 
Ethicks and of Logick. The human mind, it is true, as well 
as the material world which surrounds it, forms a part of 
the great system of the Universe ; but is it possible to con¬ 
ceive two parts of the same whole more completely dissimi¬ 
lar, or rather more diametrically opposite, in all their cha- 
racteristical attributes ? Is not the one the appropriate field 
and province of observation , —a power habitually awake to 
all the perceptions and impressions of the bodily organs ? 
and does not the other fall exclusively under the cognizance 
of reflection, —an operation which inverts all the ordinary 
habits of the understanding,—abstracting the thoughts 
from every sensible object, and even striving to ab¬ 
stract them from every sensible image ? What abuse of 
language can be greater, than to apply a common name to 
departments of know ledge which invite the curiosity in di- 

1 “ Sous le nom de sciences physiques je comprends la logique, 
qui est la connoissance des operations de nt tre esprit et de la 
generation de nos idees, la metaphysique, qui s’occupe de la na¬ 
ture et de l’origine des 6tres, et enfin la physique, proprement 
dite, qui observe Paction mutuel des corps les uns sur les autres, 
et les causes et Penchainement des phenom§nes sensibles. On 
pourroit y ajouter Vhistoire .” —(Oeuvres de Turgot , Tome II, pp. 
284, 285, 

In the year 1795, a quarto volume was published at Bath, en¬ 
titled Intellectual Physicks. It consists entirely of speculations 
concerning the human mind, and is by no means destitute of 
merit. The publication was anonymous; but I have reason to 
believe that the author was the late well known Governour 
Pownall. 


26 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


rections precisely contrary, and which tend to form intel¬ 
lectual talents, which, if not altogether incompatible, are 
certainly not often found united in the same individual ? 
The word Physicks, in particular, which, in our language, 
long and constant use has restricted to the phenomena of 
Matter, cannot fail to strike every ear as anomalously, and 
therefore Magically, applied, when extended to those of 
Thought and of Consciousness. 

Nor let it be imagined, that these observations assume 
any particular theory about the nature or essence of Mind. 
Whether we adopt, on this point, the language of the Mate¬ 
rialists, or that of their opponents, it is a proposition equal¬ 
ly certain and equally indisputable, that the phenomena of 
Mind and those of Matter, as far as they come under the 
cognizance of our faculties, appear to be more completely 
heterogeneous, than any other classes of facts within the 
circle of our knowledge ; and that the sources of our in¬ 
formation concerning them are in every respect so radical¬ 
ly different, that nothing is more carefully to be avoided, 
in the study of either, than an attempt to assimilate them, 
by means of analogical or metaphorical terms, applied to 
both in common. In those inquiries, above all, where we 
have occasion to consider Matter and Mind as conspiring 
to produce the same joint effects (in the constitution, for 
example, of our own compounded frame,) it becomes more 
peculiarly necessary to keep constantly in view the distinct 
province of each, and to remember, that the business of 
philosophy is not to resolve the phenomena of the one into 
those of the other, but merely to ascertain the general 
laws which regulate their mutual connexion. Matter and 
Mind, therefore, it should seem, are the two most general 
heads which ought to form the groundwork of an Encyclo¬ 
pedical classification of the sciences and arts. No branch 
of human knowledge, no work of human skill, can be men- 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 27 

tioned, which does not obviously fall under the former head 
or the latter. 

Agreeably to this twofold classification of the sciences 
and arts, it is proposed, in the following introductory Es¬ 
says, to exhibit a rapid sketch of the progress made since 
the revival of letters: First , in those branches of know¬ 
ledge which relate to Mind ; and, secondly , in those which 
relate to Matter. D’Alembert, in his Preliminary Dis¬ 
course, has boldly attempted to embrace both subjects in 
one magnificent design ; and never, certainly, was there a 
single mind more equal to such an undertaking. The his¬ 
torical outline which he has there traced, forms by far the 
most valuable portion of that performance, and will for ever 
remain a proud monument to the depth, to the comprehen¬ 
siveness, and to the singular versatility of his genius. In 
the present state of science, however, it has been appre¬ 
hended, that, by dividing so great a work among different 
hands, something might perhaps be gained, if not in point 
of reputation to the authors, at least in point of instruction 
to their readers. This division of labour was, indeed, in 
some measure, rendered necessary (independently of all 
other considerations) by the important accessions which ma- 
thematicks and physicks have received since D’Alembert’s 
time;—by the innumerable improvements which the spirit 
of mercantile speculation, and the rivalship of commercial 
nations, have introduced into the mechanical arts ;—and, 
above all, by the rapid succession of chemical discoveries 
which commences with the researches of Black and of 
Lavoisier. The part of this task which has fallen to my 
share is certainly, upon the whole, the least splendid in the 
results which it has to record; but I am not without hopes, that 
this disadvantage may be partly compensated by its closer 
connexion with (what ought to be the ultimate end of all 
our pursuits) the intellectual and moral improvement of the 
species. 


28 PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 

I am, at the same time, well aware that, in proportion as 
this last consideration increases the importance, it adds to 
the difficulty of my undertaking. It is chiefly in judging 
of questions “ coming home to their business and 6080108 ,” 
that casual associations lead mankind astray ; and of such 
associations how incalculable is the number arising from 
false systems of religion, oppressive forms of government, 
and absurd plans of education! The consequence is, that 
■while the physical and mathematical discoveries of former 
ages present themselves to the hand of the historian, like 
masses of pure and native gold, the truths which we are 
here in quest of may be compared to iron , which, although 
at once the most necessary and the most widely diffused of 
all the metals, commonly requires a discriminating eye to 
detect its existence, and a tedious, as well as nice process, 
to extract it from the ore. 

To the same circumstance it is owing, that improvements 
in Moral and in Political Science do not strike the imagina¬ 
tion with nearly so great force as the discoveries of the 
Mathematician or of the Chemist. When an inveterate 
prejudice is destroyed by extirpating the casual associa¬ 
tions on which it was grafted, how powerful is the new im¬ 
pulse given to the intellectual faculties of man ! Yet how 
slow and silent the process by which the effect is accom¬ 
plished ! Were it not, indeed, for a certain class of learned 
authors, who, from time to lime, heave the log into the deep, 
we should hardly believe that the reason of the species is 
progressive. In this respect, the religious and academical 
establishments in some parts of Europe are not without their 
use to the historian of the Human Mind. Immoveably 
moored to the same station by the strength of their cables, 
and the weight of their anchors, they enable him to mea¬ 
sure the rapidity of the current by which the rest of the 
world are born along. 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 29 

This , too, is remarkable in the history of our prejudices ; 
that, as soon as the film falls from the intellectual eye, we 
are apt to lose all recollection of our former blindness. 
Like the fantastick and giant shapes which, in a thick fog, 
the imagination lends to a block of stone, or to the stump of 
a tree, they produce, while the illusion lasts, the same effect 
with truths and realities; but the moment the eye has 
caught the exact form and dimensions of its object, the 
spell is broken for ever ; nor can any effort of thought 
again conjure up the spectres which have vanished. 

As to the subdivisions of which the sciences of Matter and 
of Mind are susceptible, I have already said, that this is not the 
proper place for entering into any discussion concerning them. 
The passages above quoted from D’Alembert, from Locke, 
and from Smith, are sufficient to shew how little probability 
there is, in the actual state of Logical Science, of uniting 
the opinions of the learned, in favour of any one scheme of 
partition. To prefix, therefore, such a scheme to a work 
which is professedly to be carried on by a set of unconnect¬ 
ed writers, would be equally presumptuous and useless ; 
and, on the most favourable supposition, could tend only 
to fetter, by means of dubious definitions, the subsequent 
freedom of thought and of expression. The example of 
the French Encyclopedic cannot be here justly alleged as 
a precedent. The preliminary pages by which it is intro¬ 
duced were written by the two persons who projected the 
whole plan, and who considered themselves as responsible, 
not only for their own admirable articles, but for the general 
conduct of the execution ; whereas, on the present occa¬ 
sion, a porch was to be adapted to an irregular edifice, 
reared, at different periods, by different architects. It 
seemed, accordingly, most advisable, to avoid, as much as 
possible, in these introductory Essays, all innovations in 
language, and, in describing the different arts and sciences, 

5 


30 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST DISSERTATION. 


to follow scrupulously the prevailing and most intelligible 
phraseology. The task of defining them, with a greater 
degree of precision, properly devolves upon those to whose 
province it belongs, in the progress of the work, to untold 
in detail their elementary principles. 

The sciences to which I mean to confine my observa¬ 
tions are Metaphysicks, Ethicks, and Political Philosophy ; 
understanding, by Metaphysicks, not the Ontology and 
Pneumafology of the schools, but the inductive Philosophy 
of the Human Mind ; and limiting the phrase, Political 
Philosophy, almost exclusively to the modern science of 
Political Economy ; or (to express myself in terms at once 
more comprehensive and more precise) to that branch of 
the theory of legislation which, according to Bacon’s defi¬ 
nition, aims to ascertain those “ Leges legum, ex quibus 
informatio peti potest quid in singulis legibus bene aut per- 
peram positum aut constitution sit.” The close affinity be¬ 
tween these three departments of knowledge, and the easy 
transitions by which the curiosity is invited from the study 
of any one of them to that of the other two, will sufficiently 
appear from the following Historical Review. 


DISSERTATION FIRST. 


PART I. 


In the following Historical and Critical Sketches, it has 
been judged proper by the different writers, to confine their 
views entirely to the period which has elapsed since the 
revival of letters. To have extended their retrospects to 
the ancient world would have crowded too great a multipli¬ 
city of objects into the limited canvass on which they had 
to work. For my own part, I might perhaps, with still 
greater propriety, have confined myself exclusively to the 
two last centuries; as the Sciences, of which I am to treat, 
present but little matter for useful remark, prior to the time 
of Lord Bacon. I shall make no apology, however, for 
devoting, in the first place, a few pages to some observa¬ 
tions of a more general nature ; and to some scanty glean¬ 
ings of literary detail, bearing more or less directly on my 
principal design. 

On this occasion, as well as in the sequel of my Dis¬ 
course, I shall avoid, as far as is consistent with distinct¬ 
ness and perspicuity, the minuteness of the mere bibliogra¬ 
pher ; and, instead of attempting to amuse my readers with 
a series of critical epigrams, or to dazzle them with a rapid 
succession of evanescent portraits, shall study to fix their 
attention on those great lights of the world by whom the 




32 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 


torch of science has been successively seized and trans¬ 
mitted. 1 It is, in fact, such leading characters alone which 
furnish matter for philosophical history. To enumerate 
the names and the labours of obscure or even secondary 
authors (whatever amusement it might afford to men of cu¬ 
rious erudition) would contribute but little to illustrate the 
origin and filiation of consecutive systems, or the gradual 
development and progress of the human mind. 

1 1 have ventured here to combine a scriptural expression with 
an allusion of Plato’s to a Grecian game; an allusion which, in 
his writings, is finely and pathetically applied to the rapid suc¬ 
cession of generations, through which the continuity of human 
life is maintained from age to age; and which are perpetually 
transferring from hand to hand the concerns and duties <f ibis 
fleeting scene. rmanres xxi s noulixs, xu6u7rz£ Aa/tcTra&e 
roi> fiiov rrxgccdtdovng «cAAo<s g| <*AA»y. (Plato, Leg. lit). vi.J 

Et quasi cursores vital lampada tradunt.'- Lucret, 


33 


CHAPTER I. 


FROM THE REVIVAL OF LETTERS TO THE PUBLICATION OF BACON’S 
PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS. 

The long interval, commonly known by the name of the 
middle ages , which immediately preceded the revival of 
letters in the western part of Europe, forms the most me¬ 
lancholy blank which occurs, from the first dawn of record¬ 
ed civilization, in the intellectual and moral history of the 
human race. In one point of view alone, the recollection 
of it is not altogether unpleasing, in as much as, by the 
proof it exhibits of the inseparable connexion between 
ignorance and prejudice on the one hand, and vice, misery, 
and slavery, on the other, it affords, in conjunction with 
other causes, which will afterwards fall under our review, 
some security against any future recurrence of a similar 
calamity. 

It would furnish a very interesting and instructive sub¬ 
ject of speculation, to record and to illustrate (with the 
spirit, however, rather of a philosopher than of an anti¬ 
quary) the various abortive efforts, which, during this pro¬ 
tracted and seemingly hopeless period of a thousand years, 
were made by enlightened individuals, to impart to their 
contemporaries the fruits of their own acquirements. For 
in no one age from its commencement to its close, does the 
continuity of knowledge (if I may borrow an expression 
of Mr Harris) seem to have been entirely interrupted : 

There was always a faint twilight, like that auspicious 
gleam which, in a summer’s night, fills up the interval be- 


34 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I, 


tween the setting and the rising sun.” 1 On the present 
occasion, I shall content myself with remarking the impor¬ 
tant effects produced by the numerous monastick establish¬ 
ments all over the Christian world, in preserving, amidst 
the general wreck, the inestimable remains of Greek and 
Roman refinement ; and in keeping alive, during so many 
centuries, those scattered sparks of truth and of science, 
which were afterwards to kindle into so bright a flame. I 
mention this particularly, because, in our zeal against the 
vices and corruptions of the Romish church, we are too 
apt to forget, how deeply we are indebted to its supersti¬ 
tious and apparently useless foundations, for the most pre¬ 
cious advantages that we now enjoy. 

The study of the Roman Law, which, from a variety of 
causes, natural as well as accidental, became, in the course 
of the twelfth century, an object of general pursuit, shot a 
strong and auspicious ray of intellectual light across the 
surrounding darkness. No study could then have been 
presented to the curiosity of men, more happily adapted to 
improve their taste, to enlarge their views, or to invigorate 
their reasoning powers ; and although, in the first instance, 
prosecuted merely as the object of a weak and undistin¬ 
guishing idolatry, it nevertheless conducted the student to 
the very confines of ethical as well as of political specula¬ 
tion ; and served, in the meantime, as a substitute of no 
inconsiderable value for both these sciences. Accordingly 
we find that, while in its immediate effects it powerfully 
contributed, wherever it struck its roots, by ameliorating 
and systematizing the administration of justice, to accele¬ 
rate the progress of order and of civilization, it afterwards 
furnished, in the farther career of human advancement, the 
parent stock on which were grafted the first rudiments of 


1 Philological Inquiries , Part III, chap. i. 


OHJlP. I.} 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


35 


pure ethicks and of liberal politicks taught in modern times. 
I need scarcely add, that I allude to the systems of natural 
jurisprudence compiled by Grolius and his successors; 
systems which, for a hundred and fifty years, engrossed all 
the learned industry of the most enlightened part of Eu¬ 
rope ; and which, however unpromising in their first aspect, 
were destined, in the last result, to prepare the way for 
that never to be forgotten change in the literary taste of the 
eighteenth century, “which has every where turned the 
spirit of philosophical inquiry from frivolous or abstruse 
speculations, to the business and affairs of men.” 1 

The revival of letters may be considered as coeval with 
the fall of the Eastern empire, towards the close of the fif¬ 
teenth century. In consequence of this event, a number of 
learned Greeks took refuge in Italy, where the taste for lite¬ 
rature already introduced by Dante, Petrarch, and Bocca- 
cio, together with the liberal patronage of the illustrious 
House of Medicis, secured them a welcome reception. A 
knowledge of the Greek tongue soon became fashionable ; 
and the learned, encouraged by the rapid diffusion which 
the art of printing now gave to their labours, vied with each 
other in rendering the Greek authors accessible, by means 
of Latin translations, to a still wider circle of readers. 

For along time, indeed, after the era just mentioned, the 
progress of useful knowledge was extremely slow. The 
passion for logical disputation was succeeded by an un¬ 
bounded admiration for the wisdom of antiquity ; and in 
proportion as the pedantry of the schools disappeared in 
the universities, that of erudition and philology occupied 
its place. 

i Dr. Robertson, from whom I quote these words, has men- 
tioned this change as the glory of the present age , meaning, I 
presume, the period which has elapsed since the time of Mon¬ 
tesquieu. By what steps the philosophy to which he alludes took 
its rise from the systems of jurisprudence previously in fashion, 
will appear in the sequel of this Discourse. 


36 FIRST DISSERTATION. [pam 

Meanwhile, an important advantage was gained in the 
immense slock of materials which the ancient authors 
supplied to the reflections of speculative men; and which, 
although frequently accumulated with little discrimina¬ 
tion or profit, were much more favourable to the develop¬ 
ment of taste and of genius, than the unsubstantial sub- 
tilties of ontology or of dialecticks. By such studies 
were formed Erasmus , 1 Ludovicus Vives , 2 Sir Thomas 

1 The writings of Erasmus probably contributed still more 
than those of Luther himself to the progress of the Reformation 
among men of education and taste; but, without the cooperation 
of bolder and more decided characters than his, little would to 
this day have been effected in Europe among the lower orders. 
“ Erasmus imagined,” as is observed by his biographer, “ that at 
length, by training up youth in learning and useful knowledge, 
those religious improvements would gradually be brought about, 
which the Princes, the Prelates, and the Divines of his days 
could not be persuaded to admit or to tolerate.” (Jortin, p. 279.) 
In yielding, however, to this pleasing expectation, Erasmus must 
have flattered himself with the hope, not only of a perfect free¬ 
dom of literary discussion, but of such reforms in the prevailing 
inodes of instruction, as would give complete scope to the ener¬ 
gies of the human mind;—for, where books and teachers are 
subjected to the censorship of those who are hostile to the dis¬ 
semination of truth, they become the most powerful of all aux¬ 
iliaries to the authority of established errours. 

It was long a proverbial saying among the ecclesiasticks of the 
Romish church, that “ Erasmus laid the egg, and Luther hatch¬ 
ed itand there is more truth in the remark, than in most of 
their sarcasms on the same subject. 

2 Ludovicus Vives was a learned Spaniard, intimately con¬ 
nected both with Erasmus and More ; with the former of whom 
he lived for some time at Louvain; “ where they both promoted 
literature as much as they could, though not without great op¬ 
position from some of the divines.” Jortin, p. 255. 

“ He was invited into England by Wolsey, in 1523; and com¬ 
ing to Oxford, he read the Cardinal’s lecture of Humanity , and 
also lectures of Civil Law, which Henry VIII, and his Queen, 
Catharine, did him the honour of attending.” (Ibid. p. 207.) 
He died at Bruges in 1554. 

In point of good sense and acuteness, wherever he treats of 
philosophical questions, he yields to none of his contemporaries: 


CHAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


37 


More , 1 and many other accomplished scholars of a similar 
character, who, if they do not rank in the same line with 
the daring reformers by whom the errours of the Catholick 
church were openly assailed, certainly exhibit a very 
striking contrast to the barbarous and unenlightened writers 
of the preceding age. 

The Protestant Reformation, which followed immediate¬ 
ly after, was itself one of the natural consequences of the 
revival of letters, and of the invention of printing. Rut 
although, in one point of view, only an effect , it is not, on 
the present occasion, less entitled to notice than the causes 
by which it was produced. 

The renunciation, in a great part of Europe, of theolo¬ 
gical opinions so long consecrated by time, and the adop¬ 
tion of a creed more pure in its principles and more liberal 
in its spirit, could not fail to encourage, on all other sub¬ 
jects, a congenial freedom of inquiry. These circumstan¬ 
ces operated still more directly and powerfully, by their 
influence in undermining the authority of Aristotle; an 
authority, which for many years was scarcely inferiour in 
the schools to that of the scriptures ; and which, in some 
Universities, was supported by statutes, requiring the 
teachers to promise upon oath, that, in their publick lec¬ 
tures, they would follow no other guide. 

and in some of his anticipations of the future progress of science, 
he discovers a mind more comprehensive and sagacious than any 
of them. Erasmus appears, from a letter of his to Budaeus 
(dated in 1521,) to have foreseen the brilliant career which 
Vives, then a very young man, was about to run. “ Vives in 
stadio literario, non minus feliciter quam gnaviter decerlat, et si 
satis ingenium hominis novi, non conquiescet, donee omnes a ter- 
go reliquerit.”—For this letter (the whole of which is peculiarly 
interesting, as it contains a character of Sir Thomas More, and 
an account of the extraordinary accomplishments of his daugh¬ 
ters,) see Jortin’s Life of Erasmus , vol. II, p. 366, et seq. 

1 See Note A. 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part t. 


38 

Luther , 1 who was perfectly aware of the corruptions 
which the Romish church had contrived to connect with 
their veneration for the Stagirite , 2 not only threw off the 
yoke himself, but, in various parts of his writings, speaks 
of Aristotle with most unbecoming asperity and contempt . 3 
In one very remarkable passage, he asserts, that the study 
of Aristotle was wholly useless, not only in Theology, 
but in Natural Philosophy. “ What does it contribute,” 
he asks, “ to the knowledge of things, to trifle and cavil 
in language conceived and prescribed by Aristotle, con¬ 
cerning matter, form, motion, and time \!” 4 The same free- 

1 Bom 1483, died 1546. 

2 In one of his letters he writes thus : “ Ego simpliciter credo, 
quod impossibile sit ecclesiani reformari, nisi funditus canones, de- 
cretales, scholastica theologia, philosophia, logica, ut nunc haben- 
tur, eradicentur, et alia instituantur.” Bruckeri Hist. Crit. Phil. 
Tom. IV, p. 95. 

3 For a specimen of Luther’s scurrility against Aristotle, see 
Bayle, Art. Luther, Note HR. 

In Luther’s CdUoquia Mensalia we are told, that “he abhor¬ 
red the Schoolmen, and called them sophistical locusts, cater¬ 
pillars, frogs, and lice.” From the same work we learn, that 
“ he hated Aristotle, but highly esteemed Cicero, as a wise and 
good man.” See Jortin’s Life of Erasmus , p. 121. 

4 “Nihil adjumenti ex ipso haberi posse non solum ad theolo- 
giam seu sacras literas, verum etiam ad ipsam naturalem philo- 
sophiam. Quid enimjuvet ad rerum cognitionem, side materia, 
forma, motu, tempore, nugari et cavillari queas verbis ab Aristo- 
tele conceptis et praescriptis ?” Bruck. Hist. Phil. Tom. IV, 

p. 101. 

The following passage to the same purpose is quoted by 
Bayle: “ Non mihi persuadebitis, philosophiam esse garrulitatem 
ill'im de materia, motu, infinito, loco, vacuo, tempore, quae fere 
in Aristotele sola discimus, talia quae nec intellectum, nec affec¬ 
tum, nec communes bominum mores quidquam juvent; tantum 
contentionibus serendis, seminandisque idonea.” Bayle, Art. 
Luther, Note HH. 

I borrow from Bayle another short extract from Luther : “ Ni¬ 
hil ita ardet animus, quam histrionem ilium, (Aristotelem,) qui 
tarn vere Graeca larva ecclesiam lusit, multis revelare, ignomi- 


£HAP. l.j 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


39 


dom of thought on topicks not strictly theological, formed 
a prominent feature in the character of Calvin. A curious 
instance of it occurs in one of his letters, where he discus¬ 
ses an ethical question of no small moment in the science 
of political economy ;—“ How far it is consistent with 
morality to accept of interest for a pecuniary loan V 9 On 
this question, which, even in Protestant countries, continu¬ 
ed, till a very recent period, to divide the opinions both of 
divines and lawyers, Calvin treats the authority of Aristo¬ 
tle and that of the church with equal disregard. To the 
former, he opposes a close and logical argument, not un¬ 
worthy of Mr. Bentham. To the latter he replies, by 
shewing, that the Mosaick law on this point was not a mor¬ 
al but a municipal prohibition ; a prohibition not to be judg¬ 
ed of from any particular text of Scripture, but upon the 
principles of natural equity . 1 The example of these two 
Fathers of the Reformation, would probably have been fol¬ 
lowed by consequences still greater and more immediate, if 
Melanchthon had not unfortunately given the sanction of 
his name to the doctrines of the Peripatetick school : 2 but 

niamque ejus cunctis ostendere, si otium esset. Habeo in manus 
commentariolos in 1, Physicorum, quibus fabulam Aristaei de- 
nuo agere statui in meum istum Protea (Aristotelem.) Pars 
crucis meae vel maxima est, quod videre cogor fratrum optima 
ingenia, bonis studiis nata, in istis coenis vitam agere, et ope- 
ram perdere.” Ibid. 

That Luther was deeply skilled in the scholastick philosophy 
we learn from very high authority, that of Melanchthon; who 
tells us farther, that he was a strenuous partizan of the sect of 
Nominalists , or, as they were then generally called, Tenninists, 
Bruck. Tom. IV, pp. 93, 94, ct seq. 

1 See Note B. 

2 “Et Melanchthoni quidem praecipue debetur conservatio 
philosophiae Aristotelicae in academiis protestantium. Scrip- 
sit is compendia plerarumque disciplinarum philosophiae Aristo¬ 
telicae, quae in Academiis diu regnarunt.” Heineccii, Elem. 
Hist. Plnl. § ciii. See also Boyle's Dictionary , Art. Melanchthon . 


40 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[fart 1. 


still, among the Reformers in general, the credit of these 
doctrines gradually declined, and a spirit of research and 
of improvement prevailed. 

The invention of printing, which took place very nearly 
at the same time with the fall of the Eastern Empire, be¬ 
sides adding greatly to the efficacy of the causes above 
mentioned, must have been attended with very important 
effects of its own, on the progress of the human mind. For 
us, who have been accustomed, from our infancy, to the use 
of books, it is not easy to form an adequate idea of the 
disadvantages which those laboured under, who had to ac¬ 
quire the whole of their knowledge through the medium 
of universities and schools;—blindly devoted as the gene¬ 
rality of students must then have been to the peculiar opi¬ 
nions of the teacher, who first unfolded to their curiosity 
the treasures of literature and the wonders of science. 
Thus errour w^as perpetuated ; and, instead of yielding to 
time, acquired additional influence in each successive gene¬ 
ration. 1 In modern times, this influence of names is, com- 

1 It was in consequence of this mode of conducting education 
by means of oral instruction alone, that the different sects of 
philosophy arose in ancient Greece; and it seems to have been 
with a view of counteracting the obvious inconveniences resulting 
from them, that Socrates introduced his peculiar method of ques¬ 
tioning, with an air of skeptical diffidence, those whom he was 
anxious to instruct; so as to allow them, in forming their con¬ 
clusions, the complete and unbiassed exercise of their own rea¬ 
son. Such, at least, is the apology offered for the apparent inde¬ 
cision of the Academick school, by one of its wisest, as well as 
most eloquent adherents. “ As for other sects.” says, Cicero, 
“ who are bound in fetters, before they are able to form any 
judgment of what is right or true, and who have been led to 
yield themselves up, in their tender years, to the guidance of 
some friend, or to the captivating eloquence of the teacher 
whom they have first heard, they assume to themselves the 
right of pronouncing upon questions of which they are complete¬ 
ly ignorant; adhering to whatever creed the wind of doctrine 
may have driven them, as if it were the only rock on which 
their safety depended.” Cic. Lncullus, 3. 


CHAP. |.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


41 


paratively speaking, at an end. The object of a publick 
teacher is no longer to inculcate a particular system of 
dogmas, but to prepare his pupils for exercising their own 
judgments; to exhibit to them an outline of the different 
sciences, and to suggest subjects for their future examina¬ 
tion. The few attempts to establish schools and to found 
sects, have all (after perhaps a temporary success) proved 
abortive. Their effect, too, during their short continuance, 
has been perfectly the reverse of that of the schools of an¬ 
tiquity ; for whereas these are instrumental, on many oc¬ 
casions, in establishing and diffusing errour in the world, 
the founders of our modern sects, by mixing up impor¬ 
tant truths with their own peculiar tenets, and by dis¬ 
guising them under the garb of a technical phraseology, 
have fostered such prejudices against themselves, as have 
blinded the publick mind to all the lights they were able 
to communicate. Of this remark a melancholy illustration 
occurs (as M. Turgot long ago predicted) in the case of the 
French Economists ; and many examples of a similar import 
might be produced from the history of science in our coun¬ 
try ; more particularly from the history of the various medi¬ 
cal and metaphysical schools which successively rose and 
fell during the last century. 

With the circumstances already suggested, as conspiring 
to accelerate the progress of knowledge, another has co¬ 
operated very extensively and powerfully ; the rise of the 
lower orders in the different countries of E irope,—in con¬ 
sequence partly of the enlargement of commerce, and partly 
of the efforts of the Sovereigns to reduce the overgrown 
power of the feudal aristocracy. 

Without this emancipation of the lower orders, and the 
gradual diffusion of wealth by which it was accompanied, 
the advantages derived from the invention of printing would 
have been extremely limited. A certain degree of ease 


42 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[tart I. 


and independence is essentially requisite to inspire men 
with the desire of knowledge, and to afford the leisure ne¬ 
cessary for acquiring it; and it is only by the encourage¬ 
ment which such a state of society presents to industry and 
ambition, that the selfish passions of the multitude can be 
interested in the intellectual improvement of their children. 
It is only, too, in such a state of society, that education and 
books are likely to increase the sum of human happiness; 
for while these advantages are confined to one privileged 
description of individuals, they but furnish them with an 
additional engine for debasing and misleading the minds of 
their inferiours. To all which it may be added, that it is 
chiefly by the shock and collision of different and opposite 
prejudices, that truths are gradually cleared from that ad¬ 
mixture of errour which they have so strong a tendency to 
acquire, wherever the course of publick opinion is forcibly 
constrained and guided within certain artificial channels, 
marked out by the narrow views of human policy. The 
diffusion of knowledge, therefore, occasioned by the rise of 
the lower orders, would necessarily contribute to the im¬ 
provement of useful science, not merely in proportion to 
the arithmetical number of cultivated minds now combined 
in the pursuit of truth, but in a proportion tending to ac¬ 
celerate that important effect with a far greater rapidity. 

Nor ought we here to overlook the influence of the fore¬ 
going causes, in encouraging among authors the practice of 
addressing the multitude in their own vernacular tongues. 
The zeal of the Reformers first gave birth to this invalu¬ 
able innovation ; and imposed on their adversaries the neces¬ 
sity of employing, in their own defence, the same weapons. 1 

1 “ The sacred books were, in almost all the kingdoms and 
states of Europe, translated into the language of each respective 
people, particularly in Germany, Italy, France, and Britain.” 
(Mosheim’s Eccles. Hist. vol. ill, p. 265.) The effect of this 


CHAf. I.]! 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


43 


From that moment the prejudice began to vanish which 
had so long confounded knowledge with erudition; and a 
revolution commenced in the republick of letters, analogous 
to what the invention of gunpowder produced in the art of 
war. " All the splendid distinctions of mankind,” as the 
Champion and Flower of Chivalry indignantly exclaimed, 
“ were thereby thrown down ; and the naked shepherd 
levelled with the knight clad in steel.” 

To all these considerations may be added the gradual 
effects of time and experience in correcting the errours and 
prejudices which had misled philosophers during so long 
a succession of ages. To this cause, chiefly, must be as¬ 
cribed the ardour with which we find various ingenious men, 
soon after the period in question, employed in prosecuting 
experimental inquiries; a species of study to which no¬ 
thing analogous occurs in the history of ancient science. 1 
The boldest and most successful of this new school was the 
celebrated Paracelsus; born in 1493, and consequently on¬ 
ly ten years younger than Luther. “ It is impossible to 
doubt,” says Le Clerc, in his History of Physick , “ that 
he possessed an extensive knowledge of what is called 
the Materia Medica , and that he had employed much time 
in working on the animal, the vegetable, and the mineral 
substances of which it is composed. He seems, besides, 
to have tried an immense number of experiments in chemis¬ 
try ; but he has this great defect, that he studiously con¬ 
ceals or disguises the results of his long experience.” The 

single circumstance in multiplying the number of readers and of 
thinkers, and in giving a certain stability to the mutable forms 
of oral speech, may be easily imagined. The vulgar translation 
of the Bible into English, is pronounced by Dr. Lowth to be still 
the best standard of our language. 

1 “ Haec nostra (ut saepe diximus) felicitatis cujusdam sunt po- 
tius quam facultatis, ct potius temporis partus quam ingenii” Nov 
Org. Lib. i, c. xxiii. 


44 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 


same author quotes from Paracelsus a remarkable expres¬ 
sion, in which he calls the philosophy of Aristotle a wood¬ 
en foundation. “ He ought to have attempted,” continues 
Le Clerc, “ to have laid a better ; but if he has not done it, 
he has at least, by discovering its weakness, invited his 
successors to look out for a firmer basis.” 1 

Lord Bacon himself, while he censures the moral frail¬ 
ties of Paracelsus, and the blind empiricism of his followers, 
indirectly acknowledges the extent of his experimental in¬ 
formation : “ The ancient sophists maybe said to have hid; 
but Paracelsus extinguished the light of nature. The so¬ 
phists were only deserters of experience, but Paracelsus 
lias betrayed it. At the same time, he is so far from un¬ 
derstanding the right method of conducting experiments, or 
of recording their results, that he has added to the trouble 
and tediousness of experimenting. By wandering through 
the wilds of experience, his disciples sometimes stumble 
upon useful discoveries, not by reason, but by accident ;— 
whence rashly proceeding to form theories, they carry the 
smoke and tarnish of their art along with them ; and, like 
childish operators at the furnace, attempt to raise a struc¬ 
ture of philosophy with a few experiments of distillation.” 

Two other circumstances, of a nature widely different 
from those hitherto enumerated, although, probably, in no 
small degree to be accounted for on the same principles, 
seconded, with an incalculable accession of power, the 
sudden impulse which the human mind had just received. 
The same century which the invention of printing, and the 
revival of letters have made for ever memorable, was also 
illustrated by the discovery of the New World, and of the 
passage to India by the Cape of Good Hope ;—events 
which may be justly regarded as fixing a new era in the 

1 Histoire de la Medecine, (ala Haye, 1729,) p. 819. 


CHAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


45 


political and moral history of mankind; and which still con¬ 
tinue to exert a growing influence over the general condi¬ 
tion of our species. “ It is an era” as Raynal observes, 
“ which gave rise to a revolution, not only in the commerce 
of nations, but in the manners, industry, and government 
of the world. At this period new connexions w’ere form¬ 
ed by the inhabitants of the most distant regions, for the 
supply of wants which they had never before experienced. 
The productions of climates situated under the equator, 
were consumed in countries bordering on the pole; the in¬ 
dustry of the north was transplanted to the south ; and the 
inhabitants of the west were clothed w ith the manufactures 
of the east ; a general intercourse of opinions, laws and 
customs, diseases and remedies, virtues and vices, was 
established among men.” 

“ Every thing,” continues the same writer, “ has chang¬ 
ed, and must yet change more. But it is a question, wheth¬ 
er the revolutions that are past, or those which must here¬ 
after take place, have been, or can be, of any utility to the 
human race. Will they add to the tranquillity, to the en¬ 
joyments, and to the happiness of mankind ? Can they 
improve our present state, or do they only change it ?” 

I have introduced this quotation, not with the design of 
attempting at present any reply to the very interesting 
question with which it concludes ; but merely to convey 
some slight notion of the political and moral importance of 
the events in question. 1 cannot, however, forbear to re¬ 
mark, in addition to RaynaPs eloquent and impressive sum¬ 
mary, the inestimable treasure of new facts which these 
events have furnished for illustrating the versatile nature 
of man, and the history of civil society. In this respect 
(as Bacon has well observed) they have fully verified the 
Scripture prophecy, multi pertransibunt et augebiturscien- 
tia ; or, in the still more emphatical w ords of ©ur English 

7 


46 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part j. 


version, <£ Many shall go to and fro, and knowledge shall 
be increased.”* The same prediction may be applied to 
the gradual renewal (in proportion as modern governments 
became effectual in securing order and tranquillity) of that 
intercourse between the different states of Europe, which 
bad, in a great measure, ceased during the anarchy and 
turbulence of the middle ages. 

In consequence of these combined causes, aided by some 
others of secondary importance, 2 the Genius of the human 


1 “ Neque omittenda est prophetia Danielis de ultimis mundi 
temporibus; multi pertransibunt et augebitur scientia: Manifeste 
innuens et significans, esse in fatis, id est, in providentia, ut per- 
transitus mundi (qui per tot longinquas navigationes impletur 
plane, aut.jam in opere esse videtur) et augmenta scientiarum in 
eandem aetatem incidant.” Nov. Org. Lib. xciii. 

2 Such as tlie accidental inventions of the telescope and of the 
microscope. The powerful influence of these inventions may be 
easily conceived ; not only in advancing the sciences of Astro¬ 
nomy and of Natural History, but in banishing many of the scho- 
lastick prejudices then universally prevalent. The effects of 
the telescope, in this respect, have been often remarked; but 
less attention has been given to those of the microscope,—which 
however, it is probable, contributed not a little to prepare the 
way for the modern revival of the Atomick or Corpuscular Phi¬ 
losophy, by Bacon, Gassendi, and Newton. That, on the mind 
of Bacon, the wonders disclosed by the microscope produced 
a strong impression in favour of the Epicurean physicks, rnay be 
inferred from his own words. “ Perspicillum (microscopicum) 
si vidisset Democritus, exsiluisset forte; et modum videndi Ato- 
mum (quern ille invisibilem omnino affirmavit) inventum fuisse 
putasset.” Nov. Org. Lib. ii, § 39. 

We are told in the life of Galileo, that when the telescope was 
invented, some individuals carried to so great a length their de¬ 
votion to Aristotle, that they positively refused to look through 
that instrument : so averse were they to open their eyes to any 
truths inconsistent with their favourite creed. • ( Vita del Galileo , 
Venezia, 1744.) It is amusing to find some other followers of 
the Stagirite, a very few years afterwards, when they found it 
impossible any longer to call in question the evidence of sense, 
asserting that it was from a passage in Aristotle, where he at¬ 
tempts to explain why stars become visible in the daytime when 


CHAf. I.j 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


47 


race seems, all at once, to have awakened with renovated 
and giant strength, from his long sleep. In less than a cen¬ 
tury from the invention of printing, and the fall of the Eas¬ 
tern empire, Copernicus discovered the true theory of the 
planetary motions, and a very few years afterwards, was 
succeeded by the three great precursors of Newton,—Ty¬ 
cho Brahe, Kepler, and Galileo. 

The step made by Copernicus may be justly regarded 
as one of the proudest triumphs of human reason ;—wheth¬ 
er we consider the sagacity which enabled the author to 
obviate, to his own satisfaction, the many plausible objec¬ 
tions which must have presented themselves against his con¬ 
clusions, at a period when the theory of motion was so im¬ 
perfectly understood ; or the bold spirit of inquiry which 
encouraged him to exercise his private judgment, in opposi¬ 
tion to the authority of Aristotle,—to the decrees of the 
church of Rome,—and to the universal belief of the learned, 
during a long succession of ages. He appears, indeed, to 

viewed from the bottom of a deep well) that the invention of the 
telescope was borrowed. The two facts, when combined to¬ 
gether, exhibit a truly characteristical portrait of one of the most 
fatal weaknesses incident to humanity; and forma moral apo¬ 
logue, daily exemplified on subjects of still nearer and higher in¬ 
terest than the phenomena of the heavens. 

In ascribing to accident the inventions of the telescope and of 
the microscope, I have expressed myself in conformity to com¬ 
mon language; but it ought not to be overlooked, that an inven¬ 
tion may be accidental with respect to the particular author, and 
yet may be the natural result of the circumstances of society at 
the period when it took place. As to the instruments in ques¬ 
tion, the combination of lenses employed in their structure is so 
simple, that it could scarcely escape the notice of all the experi¬ 
menters and mechanicians of that busy and inquisitive age. A 
similar remark has been made by Condorcet concerning the in¬ 
vention of printing. “ L’invention de l’Imprimerie a sans doute 
avance le progres de l’espece humaine; mais cette invention etoit 
elle-mthne une suite de I’usage de la lecture repandu dans un 
grand nombre de pays.” Vie du Turgot. 


48 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 


have well merited the encomium bestowed on him by 
Kepler, when he calls him “ a man of vast genius, and, what 
is of still greater moment in these researches, a man of a 
free mind. ,, 

The establishment of the Copernican system, beside the 
new field of study which it opened to Astronomers, must 
have had great effects on philosophy in all its branches, by 
inspiring those sanguine prospects of future improvement, 
which stimulate curiosity, and invigorate the inventive pow¬ 
ers. It afforded to the common sense, even of the illite¬ 
rate, a palpable and incontrovertible proof, that the ancients 
had not exhausted the stock of possible discoveries; and 
that, in matters of science, the creed of the Romish church 
was not infallible. In the conclusion of one of Kepler’s 
works, we perceive the influence of these prospects on his 
mind. “ Haec et cetera hujusmodi latent in pandectis aevi 
sequentis, non antea discenda, quam Iibrum liunc Deus ar¬ 
biter seculorum recluseril mortalibus.” 1 

I have hitherto taken no notice of the effects of the revi¬ 
val of letters on Metaphysical, Moral, or Political science. 
The truth is, that little deserving of our attention occurs 
in any of these departments prior to the seventeenth cen¬ 
tury ; and nothing which bears the most remote analogy to 
the rapid strides made, during the sixteenth, in mathema- 
ticks, astronomy, and physicks. The influence, indeed, of 
the reformation on the practical doctrines of ethicks appears 
to have been great and immediate. We may judge of this 
from a passage in Melanchthon, where he combats the per¬ 
nicious and impious tenets nf those theologians who main¬ 
tained, that moral distinctions are created entirely by the 
arbitrary and revealed will of God, In opposition to this 
heresy he expresses himself in these memorable words:— 

* Epit. Astron. Copcrnic, 


SHAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


49 


“ Wherefore our decision is this; that those precepts which 
learned men have committed to writing, transcribing them 
from the common reason and common feelings of human na¬ 
ture, are to be accounted as not less divine, than those con¬ 
tained in the tables given to Moses ; and that it could not 
be the intention of our Maker to supersede, by a law grav¬ 
en upon stone, that which is written with his own finger on 
the table of the heart.” 1 —This language was, undoubtedly, 
a most important step towards a just system of Moral Phi¬ 
losophy ; but still, like the other steps of the Reformers, it 
was only a return to common sense, and to the genuine 
spirit of Christianity, from the dogmas imposed on the cre¬ 
dulity of mankind by an ambitious priesthood . 2 Many 

1 Proinde sic statuimus, niliilo minus divina praecepta esse ea, 
quae a sensu communi et naturae judicio mutuati docti homines 
gentiles 1 iteris mandarunt, quam quae extant in ipsis saxeis Mo- 
sis tabulis. Neque ille ipse caelestis Pater pluris a nobis fieri 
eas leges voluit, quas in saxo scripsit, quam quas in ipsos animo- 
rum nostrorum sensus impresserat.” 

Not having it in my power at present to consult Melanchthon’s 
works, I have transcribed the foregoing paragraph on the authori¬ 
ty of a learned German Professor, Christ. Meiners. See his 
Historia Doctrincede Vero Deo. Lemgoviae, 1780, p. 12. 

2 It is observed by Dr. Cudworth, that 4he doctrine which re¬ 
fers the origin of moral distinctions to the arbitrary appointment 
of the Deity, was strongly reprobated by the ancient fathers of 
the Christian church, and that“ it crept up afterward in the scho- 
Jastick ages; Occam being among the first that maintained, that 
there is no act evil, but as it is prohibited by God, and which 
cannot be made good, if it be commanded by him. In this doc¬ 
trine he was quickly followed by Petrus Alliacus, Andreas de 
Novo Castro, and others.” See Treatise of Immutable Morality. 

It is f leasing to remark, how very generally the heresy here 
ascribed to Occam is now reprobated by good men of all 
persuasions. The Catholicks have even begun to recriminate 
on the Reformers as the first broachers of it; and it is to be re¬ 
gretted, that in some of the writings of the latter, too near ap¬ 
proaches to it are to be found. The truth is (as Burnet long ago 
observed,) that the effects of the reformation have not been con¬ 
fined to the reformed churches;—to which it may be added, that 


50 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 


years were yet to elapse, before any attempts were to be 
made to trace, with analytical accuracy, the moral pheno¬ 
mena of human life to their first principles in the constitu¬ 
tion and condition of man; or even to disentangle the plain 
and practical lessons of ethicks from the speculative and 
controverted articles of thelogical systems. 1 

both Catholicks and Protestants have, since that era, profited 
very largely by the general progress of the sciences and of hu¬ 
man reason. 

I quote the following sentence from a highly respectable Ca- 
tholick writer on the law of nature and nations :—“ Qui ratio- 
nem exsulare jubent a moralibus praeceptis quae in sacris literis 
traduntur, et in absurdam enormemque Lutheri sententiam 
imprudentes incidunt (quam egregie et elegantissime refutavit 
Melchior Canus Loc. Theolog. Lib. ix, and x) et ea docent, quae 
si se6tatores inveniant moralia omnia susque deque miscere, et 
revelationem ipsam inutilem omnino et inefficacem reddere pos- 
sent.” (Lampredi Florentini Juris Natural et Gentium Thcore- 
inata , Tom. II, p. 195. Pisis, 1782.) For the continuation of 
the passage, which would do credit to the most liberal protestant, 
I must refer to the original work. The zeal of Luther for the 
doctrine of the Nominalists had probably prepossessed him, in 
his early years, in favour of some of the theological tenets of 
Occam; and afterwards prevented him from testifying his disap¬ 
probation of them so explicitly and decidedly as Melanchthon 
and other reformers have done. 

1 “ The theological system (says the learned and judicious 
Mosheim) that now prevails in the Lutheran academies, is not of 
the same tenor or spirit with that which was adopted in the in¬ 
fancy of the Reformation. The glorious defenders of religious 
liberty, to whom we owe the various blessings of the Reforma¬ 
tion, could not, at once, behold the truth in all its lustre, and in 
all its extent; but, as usually happens to persons that have been 
long accustomed to the darkness of ignorance, their approaches 
towards knowledge were but slow, and their views of things but 
imperfect.” (Maclaine’s Transl. of Mosheim. London, 2d ed. 
vol, IV", p. 19.) He afterwards mentions one of Luther’s early 
disciples, (Amsdorff,) “ who was so far transported and infatuated 
by his excessive zeal for the supposed doctrine of his master, as 
to maintain, that good works are an impediment to salvation .” 
Ibid. p. 39. 

Mosheim, after remarking that “there are more excellent 
rules of conduct in the few practical productions of Luther and 


6HA*. I.j 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


51 


A similar observation may be applied to the powerful 
appeals, in the early protestant writers, to the moral judg¬ 
ment and moral feelings of the human race, from those 
casuistical subtilties, with which the schoolmen and monks 
of the middle ages had studied to obscure the light of na¬ 
ture, and to stifle the voice of conscience. These subtil¬ 
ties were precisely analogous in their spirit to the pia et 
religiosa calliditas , afterwards adopted in the casuistry of 
the Jesuits, and so inimitably exposed by Pascal in the 
Provincial Letters. The arguments against them employ¬ 
ed by the Reformers, cannot, in strict propriety, be con¬ 
sidered as positive accessions to the stock of human know¬ 
ledge; but what scientifick discoveries can be compared to 
them in value ! 1 

Melanchthon, than are to be found in the innumerable volumes 
of all the ancient casuists and moralizers ,” candidly acknowledges, 
“ that the notions of these great men concerning the important 
science of morality were far from being sufficiently accurate or 
extensive. Melanchthon himself, whose exquisite judgment 
rendered him peculiary capable of reducing into a compendious 
system the elements of every science, never seems to have 
thought of treating morals in this manner; but has inserted, on 
the«contrary, all his practical rules and instructions, under the 
theological articles that relate to the law, sin, freewill, faith , hope, 
and charity.” Mosheim’s Eccles. Hist. vol. IV, pp. 23, 24. 

The same author elsewhere observes, that “ the progress of 
morality among the reformed was obstructed by the very same 
means that retarded its improvement among the Lutherans; and 
that it was left in a rude and imperfect state by Calvin and his 
associates. It was neglected amidst the tumult of controversy; 
and, while every pen was drawn to maintain certain systems of 
doctrine, few were employed in cultivating that master science 
which has virtue, life, and manners for its objects.” Ibid. pp. 120 P 
121 . 

1 Et tamen ni doctores, angelici , cherubici , seraphici non modo 
universam philosophiam ac theologiam errorihus quam plurimis 
inquinarunt; verum etiam in philosophiam moralem invexere 
sacerrima ista pri ncipia probabilisimi, methedi dirigendi intentionem 9 
rcservationis mentalis, peccati philosophici , quibus Jesuitae etiam- 


<FIR8T DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. 


52 . 

From this period may be dated the decline 1 of that worst 
of all heresies of the Romish church, which, by opposing 
Revelation to reason, endeavoured to extinguish the light of 
both; and the absurdity (so happily described by Locke) 
became every day more manifest, of attempting “ to per¬ 
suade men to put out their eyes, that they might the bet¬ 
ter receive the remote light of an invisible star by a tele¬ 
scope. ” 


In the meantime, a powerful obstacle to the progress of 
practical morality and of sound policy, was superadded to 
those previously existing in Catholick countries, by the 
rapid growth and extensive influence of the Machiavellian 
school. The founder of this new sect (or to speak more 
correctly, the systematizer and apostle of its doctrines) was 
born as early as 1469, that is, about ten years before Lu¬ 
ther ; and, like that reformer, acquired, by the command¬ 
ing superiority of his genius, an astonishing ascendant 
(though of a very different nature) over the minds of his 
followers. No writer, certainly, either in ancient or in mo- 

num mirifice delectantur.” Heinecc. Elem. Histor. Phil. § cii. 
See also the references. 

With respect to the ethicks of the Jesuits, which exhibit a very 
fair picture of the general state of that science, prior to the refor¬ 
mation, see the Proiincial Letters ; Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical His¬ 
tory , vol. I V, p. 354; Dornford’s Translation of Putter's Histori¬ 
cal Development of the present Political Constitution of the Germanick 
Empire, (vol. II, p. 6); and the Appendix to Penrose’s Bamp- 
tone Lectures. 

4 I have said, the decline of this heresy , for it was by no means 
immediately extirpated even in the reformed churches. w As 
late as the year 1598, Daniel Hofman, Professor of Divinity 
in the University of Helmstadt, laying hold of some particular 
opinions of Luther, extravagantly maintained, that philosophy 
was the mortal enemy of religion ; that truth was divisible in¬ 
to two branches, the one philosophical and the other theological; 
and that what was true in philosophy was false in theology.’" 
Mosheim, vol. IV, p. 18. 


CHAP. I.J 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


53 


dern times, has ever united, in a more remarkable degree, 
a greater variety of the most dissimilar and seemingly the 
most discordant gifts and attainments;—a profound ac¬ 
quaintance with all those arts of dissimulation and intrigue, 
which, in the petty cabinets of Italy, were then universally 
confounded with political wisdom ;—an imagination familiar¬ 
ized to the cool contemplation of whatever is perfidious or 
atrocious in the history of conspirators and of tyrants ;— 
combined with a graphical skill in holding up to laughter 
the comparatively harmless follies of ordinary life. His 
dramatick humour has been often compared to that of Mo- 
liere; but it resembles it rather in comick force, than in 
benevolent gayety, or in chastened morality. Such as it 
is, however, it forms an extraordinary contrast to that 
strength of intellectual character, which, in one page, re¬ 
minds us of the deep sense of Tacitus, and in the next, of 
the dark and infernal policy of Caesar Borgia. To all this 
must be superadded a purity of taste, which has enabled 
him, as an historian, to rival the severe simplicity of the 
Grecian masters ; and a sagacity in combining historical 
facts, which was afterwards to afford lights to the school of 
Montesquieu. 

Eminent, however, as the talents of Machiavel unques¬ 
tionably were, he cannot be numbered among the benefac¬ 
tors of mankind. In none of his writings, does he exhibit 
any marks of that lively sympathy with the fortunes of the 
human race, or of that warm zeal for the interests of truth 
and justice, without the guidance of which, the highest 
mental endowments, when applied to moral or to politi¬ 
cal researches, are in perpetual danger of mistaking their 
way. What is still more remarkable, he seems to have 
been altogether blind to the mighty changes in human af¬ 
fairs, which, in consequence of the recent invention of 
printing, were about to result from the progress of Reason 

$ 


54 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part J. 


and the diffusion of Knowledge. Through the whole of 
his Prince (Ihe most noted as well as one of the latest of 
his publications) he proceeds on the supposition, that the 
sovereign has no other object in governing, but his own ad¬ 
vantage ; the very circumstance which, in the judgment 
of Aristotle, constitutes the essence of the worst species 
of tyranny. 1 He assumes also the possibility of retain¬ 
ing mankind in perpetual bondage by the old policy of the 
double doctrine; or, in other words, by enlightening the 
few, and hoodwinking the many;—a policy less or more 
practised by statesmen in all ages and countries; but 
which (wherever the freedom of the press is respected) 
cannot fail, by the insult it offers to the discernment of the 
multitude, to increase the insecurity of those who have 
the weakness to employ it. It has been contended, in¬ 
deed, by some of Machiavel’s apologists, that his real ob¬ 
ject in unfolding and systematizing the mysteries of King- 
Craft, was to point out indirectly to the governed the 
means by which the encroachments of their rulers might 
be most effectually resisted; and, at the same time, to 
satirize, under the ironical mask of loyal and courtly ad¬ 
monition, the characteristical vices of princes. 2 3 But, al¬ 
though this hypothesis has been sanctioned by several dis¬ 
tinguished names, and derives some verisimilitude from va¬ 
rious incidents in the author’s life, it will be found, on ex¬ 
amination, quite untenable ; and accordingly it is now, I be¬ 
lieve, very generally rejected. One thing is certain, that if 
such were actually Machiavel’s views, they were much too 

1 “ There is a third kind of tyranny, which .most properly de¬ 
serves that odious name, and which stands in direct opposition 
to royalty ; it takes place when one man, the worst perhaps and 
basest in the country, governs a kingdom, with no other view 
than the advantage of himself and his family.” Aristotle’s 

Politicos, Book vi, chap. x. See Dr. Gillie’s Translation. 

3 See Note C. 


CHAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


55 


refined for the capacity of his royal pupils. By many of 
these his book has been adopted as a manual for daily use; 
but I have never heard of a single instance, in which it has 
been regarded by this class of students as a disguised pane- 
gyrick upon liberty and virtue. The question concerning 
the motives of the author is surely of little moment, when 
experience has enabled us to pronounce so decidedly on 
the practical effects of his precepts. 

“ About the period of the Reformation,” says Condor 
cet, “ the principles of religious Machiavelism had become 
the only creed of princes, of ministers, and of pontiffs ; 
and the same opinions had contributed to corrupt philo¬ 
sophy. What code, indeed, of morals,” he adds, “ w T as 
to be expected from a system, of which one of the princi¬ 
ples is,—that it is necessary to support the morality of 
the people by false pretences,—and that men of enlighten¬ 
ed minds have a right to retain others in the chains from 
which they have themselves contrived to escape!” The 
fact is perhaps stated in terms somewhat too unqualified ; 
but there are the best reasons for believing, that the ex¬ 
ceptions were few, when compared with the general pro¬ 
position, 

The consequences of the prevalence of such a creed 
among the rulers of mankind were such as might be expect¬ 
ed. “ Infamous crimes, assassinations, and poisonings (says 
a French historian,) prevailed more than ever. They were 
thought to be the growth of Italy, where the rage and 
weakness of the opposite factions conspired to multiply 
them. Morality gradually disappeared, and with it all se¬ 
curity in the intercourse of life. The first principles of 
duty were obliterated by the joint influence of atheism and 
of superstition.” 1 

1 Mil lot. 


/ 


56 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


(I'ARf l. 


And here, may I be permitted to caution my readers 
against the common errour of confounding the double doc¬ 
trine of Machiavellian politicians, with the benevolent re¬ 
verence for established opinions, manifested in the noted 
maxim of Fontenelle,—“ that a wise man, even when his 
hand was full of truths, would often content himself with 
opening his little finger V 9 Of the advocates for the for¬ 
mer, it may be justly said, that “ they love darkness rather 
than light, because their deeds are evil well knowing (if 
I may borrow the words of Bacon,) “ that the open day¬ 
light doth not shew the masks and mummeries, and triumphs 
of the world, half so stately as candlelight.” The phi¬ 
losopher, on the other hand, who is duly impressed with 
the latter, may be compared to the oculist, who, after re¬ 
moving the cataract of his patient, prepares the still irrita¬ 
ble eye, by the glimmering dawn of a darkened apartment, 
for enjoying in safety the light of day . 1 

1 How strange is the following misrepresentation of Fonte- 
nelle’s fine and deep saying, by the comparatively coarse hand of 
the Baron de Grimm ! “ II disoit, ques’il 6ut tenu la verite dans 
ses mains comme un oiseau, il I’auroit etouffee, tant il regardoit 
le plus beau present du ciel inutile et dangereux pour le genre 
humain.” (Memoir es Historiques, &c. par le Baron de Grimm. 
Londres, 1814. Tome I, p. 340.) Of the complete inconsisten¬ 
cy of this statement, not only with the testimony of his most au- 
thentick biographers, but with the general tenor both of his life 
and writings, a judgment may be formed from an expression of 
D’Alembert, in his very ingenious and philosophical parallel 
between Fontenelle and La Motte. “ Tous deux ont porte trop 
loin leur revolte decidee, quoique douce en apparenee, contre les 
dieux et les lois du Parnasse; mais la liberte des opinions de la 
Motte seinble tenir plus intimement a l’inteiet personnel qu’il 
avoit de les soutenir; et la liberte des opinions de Fontenelle 
(i Finterit g&neral, pent tire quclquefois mal entendu , qiFil prenoit 
an progres dc la raison dans tous les genres.” What follows may 
be regarded in the light of a comment on the maxim above quot¬ 
ed: La finesse de la Motte est plus developpee, celle de Fon¬ 

tenelle laisse plus a deviner a son lecteur. La Motte, sans jamais 
en trop dire, n’oublie rien de ce que son sujet lui presente, met 


CHAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


57 


Machiavel is well known to have been, at bottom,no friend 
to the priesthood ; and his character has been stigmatized 
by many of the order with the most opprobrious epithets. 
It is nevertheless certain, that to his maxims the royal de¬ 
fenders of the catho’ick faith have been indebted for the 
spirit of that policy which they have uniformly opposed 
to the innovations of the Reformers. The Prince was a 
favourite book of the Emperour Charles V ; and was call¬ 
ed the Bible of Catharine of Medicis. At the court of 
the latter, while Regent of France, those who approached 
her are said to have professed openly its most atrocious 
maxims; particularly that which recommends to sove¬ 
reigns not to commit crimes by halves. The Italian cardi¬ 
nals, who are supposed to have been the secret instigators 
of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, were bred in the same 
school . 1 

It is observed by Mr. Hume, that “ there is scarcely 
any maxim in the Prince , which subsequent experience 
has not entirely refuted.” “ Machiavel,” says the same 
writer, “ was certainly a great genius ; but having confined 
his study to the furious and tyrannical governments of an¬ 
cient times, or to the little disorderly principalities of Italy, 
his reasonings, especially upon monarchical governments, 
have been found extremely defective. The errours of 
this politician proceeded, in a great measure, from his hav¬ 
ing lived in too early an age of the world, to be a good 
judge of political truth.” 2 

liabilement tout en ceuvre, et semble craindre perdre par des re¬ 
ticences trop subtiles quelqu’un de ses avantages; Fontenelle, 
sans jamais etre obscur, excepte pour ceux qui ne meritent pas 
m@me qu’on soit clair, se menage a la fois et le plaisir de sous- 
entendre, et celui d’esperer qu’il sera pleinement entendu par 
ceux qui en sont dignes.” Eloge dc la Motte. 

1 Voltaire, Essay on Universal History. 

3 Essay on Civil Liberty , 


58 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 


To these very judicious remarks it may be added, that 
the bent of Machiavel’s mind seems to have disposed him 
much more strongly to combine and to generalize his his¬ 
torical reading, than to remount to the first principles of 
political science, in the constitution of human nature, and 
in the immutable truths of morality. His conclusions, ac¬ 
cordingly, ingenious and refined as they commonly are, 
amount to little more (with a few very splendid exceptions) 
than empirical results from the events of past ages. To 
the student of ancient history they may be often both in¬ 
teresting and instructive ; but, to the modern politician, the 
most important lesson they afford is, the danger, in the 
present circumstances of the world, of trusting to such 
results, as maxims of universal application, or of perma¬ 
nent utility. 

The progress of political philosophy, and along with 
it of morality and good order, in every part of Europe, 
since the period of which I am now speaking, forms so 
pleasing a comment on the profligate and shortsighted 
policy of Machiavel, that I cannot help pausing for a mo¬ 
ment to remark the fact. In stating it, I shall avail myself 
of the words of the same profound writer, whose stric¬ 
tures on Machiavel’s Prince I had already occasion to 
quote. “ Though all kinds of government,” says Mr. 
Hume, “ be improved in modern times, yet monarchical 
government seems to have made the greatest advances to¬ 
wards perfection. It may now be affirmed of civilized 
monarchies, what was formerly said of republicks alone, 
that they are a government of laws, not of men. They 
are found susceptible of order, method, and constancy, to 
a surprising degree. Property is there secure, industry 
encouraged, the arts flourish, and the prince lives secure 
among his subjects, like a father among his children. There 
are, perhaps, and have been for two centuries, near two 


QHA r. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


59 


hundred absolute princes, great and small, in Europe; and 
allowing twenty years to each reign, we may suppose that 
there have been in the whole two thousand monarchs or 
tyrants , as the Greeks would have called them. Yet of 
these there has not been one, not even Philip II of Spain, 
so bad as Tiberius, Caligula, Nero, or Domitian, who were 
four in twelve among the Roman emperours.” 1 

For this very remarkable fact, it seems difficult to as¬ 
sign any cause equal to the effect, but the increased dif¬ 
fusion of knowledge (imperfect, alas ! as this diffusion still 
is) by means of the Press ; which, while it has raised, in 
free states, a growing bulwark against the oppression of 
rulers, in the light and spirit of the people, has, even 
under the most absolute governments, had a powerful 
influence—by teaching princes to regard the wealth 
and prosperity and instruction of their subjects as the 
firmest basis of their grandeur—in directing their atten¬ 
tion to objects of national and permanent utility. How 
encouraging the prospect thus opened of the future histo¬ 
ry of the world ! And what a motive to animate the ambi¬ 
tion of those, who, in the solitude of the closet, aspire to 
bequeath their contributions, how slender soever, to the 
progressive mass of human improvement and happiness ! 

In the bright constellation of scholars, historians, ar¬ 
tists, and wits, who shed so strong a lustre on Italy during 
that splendid period of its history which commences with 
the revival of letters, it is surprising how few names occur, 
which it is possible to connect, by any palpable link, 
with the philosophical or political speculations of the 
present times. As an original and profound thinker, the 
genius of Machiavel completely eclipses that of all his 
contemporaries. Not that Italy was then destitute of 

1 Essay on Civil Liberty. 


60 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I 


writers who pretended to the character of philosophers ; 
but as their attempts were, in general, limited to the 
exclusive illustration and defence of some one or other 
of the ancient systems for which they had conceived a 
predilection, they added but little of their own to the 
stock of useful knowledge ; and are now remembered 
chiefly from the occasional recurrence of their names in 
the catalogues of the curious, or in works of philological 
erudition. The zeal of Cardinal Bessarion, and of Mar- 
silius Ficinus, for the revival of the Platonick philosophy, 
was more peculiarly remarkable ; and, at one time, produc¬ 
ed so general an impression, as to alarm the followers of 
Aristotle for the tottering authority of their master. If 
we may credit Launoius, this great revolution was on the 
point of being actually accomplished, when Cardinal Bel- 
larmine warned Pope Clement VIII of the peculiar dan¬ 
ger of shewing any favour to a philosopher whose opinions 
approached so nearly as those of Plato to the truths re¬ 
vealed in the Gospel. In what manner Bellarmine connect¬ 
ed his conclusions with his premises, we are not informed. 
To those who are uninitiated in the mysteries of the con¬ 
clave, his inference would certainly appear much less lo¬ 
gical than that of the old Roman Pagans, who petitioned 
the Senate to condemn the works of Cicero to the flames, 
as they predisposed the minds of those who read them for 
embracing the Christian faith. 

By a small band of bolder innovators, belonging to this 
golden age of Italian literature, the Aristotelian doctrines 
were more directly and powerfully assailed. Laurentius 
Valla, Marius Nizolius, and Franciscus Patricius , 1 have all 

1 His Discussiones Peripatetics were printed at Venice in 1571; 
Another work, entitled Novade Universis Philosophia , also print¬ 
ed at Venice, appeared in 1593. I have never happened to 
meet with either$ but from the account given of the author by 


t&AF. X.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


61 


of them transmitted their names to posterity as philoso¬ 
phical reformers, and, in particular, as revolters against the 
authority of the Stagirite. Of the individuals just mention¬ 
ed, Nizolius is the only one who seems entitled to maintain a 
permanent place in the annals of modern science. His 
principal work, entitled Anlibarbarus , 1 is not only a 
bold invective against the prevailing ignorance and bar¬ 
barism of the schools, but contains so able an argument 
against the then fashionable doctrine of the Realists con¬ 
cerning general ideas , that Leibnitz thought it worth 
while, a century afterwards, to republish it, with the ad¬ 
dition of a long and valuable preface written by himself. 

At the same period with Franciscus Patricius, flourished 
another learned Italian, Albericus Gentilis, whose writings 
seem to have attracted more notice in England and Ger¬ 
many than in his own country. His attachment to the re- 

Thuanus, he does not seem to have attracted that notice from 
his contemporaries, to which his learning and talents entitled 
him. (Thuan. Hist. Lib. cxix, xvii.) His Discussioncs Peripa- 
teticce are mentioned by Brucker in the following terms : Opus 
egregium , doclutn , varium , luculcntum, sed invidia odioque in Aris- 
totclem plenum satis superque” (Hist. Phil. Tom. IV, p. 425.) The 
same very laborious and candid writer acknowledges the assist¬ 
ance he had derived from Patricius in his account of the Peri- 
patetick philosophy.—■“ In qua tractatione fatemur egregiam eni- 
tere Patricii doctrinam, ingenii elegantiam prorsus admirabilem, 
et, quod primo loco ponendum est, insolitam veteris philosophiae 
cognitionem, cujus ope nos Peripateticae disciplinae historiae mul- 
toties lucem attulisse, grati suis locis professi sumus.” Ibid. p. 
426. 

1 Antibarharus , sive de Veris Principiis et Vera Raiionc Philo - 
sophandi contra Pseudo-philosophos. Parmae, 1553. “ Les faux 

philosophes,” dit Fontenelle, “ etoient tous les scholastiques pas¬ 
ses et presens; et Nizolius s’eleve avec la derniere hardiesse con- 
tre leurs idees monstrueuses et leur langage barbare. Le lon¬ 
gue et constante admiration qu’on avoit eu pour Aristote, ne 
prouvoit, disoit-il, que la multitude des sots et la durce de la 
sottise.” The merits of this writer are much too lightly estimate 
etl by Brucker. See Hist. Phil. Tom. IV, Pars I, pp. 91, 92* 

9 


62 


first dissertation. 


{f’Afif * 


formed faith having driven him from Italy, he sought aR 
asylum at Oxford, where he published, in 1588, a book dt 
Jure Belli ; and where he appears to have read lectures Oh 
Natural Jurisprudence, under the sanction of the Univer- 
sity. His name has already sunk into almost total obli¬ 
vion; and I should certainly not have mentioned it on the 
present occasion, were it not for his indisputable merits as 
the precursor of Grotius, in a department of study 
which, forty tears afterwards, the celebrated treatise De 
Jure Belli et Pads was to raise to so conspicuous a rank 
among the branches of academical education. The avow¬ 
ed aim of this new science, when combined with the anxiety 
of Gentilis to counteract the effect of Machiavel’s Prince , 
by representing it as a warning to subjects rather than as a 
manual of instruction for their rulers^ may be regarded as 
satisfactory evidence of the growing influence, even at that 
era, of better ethical principles than those commonly 
imputed to the Florentine Secretary. 1 

The only other Italian of whom I shall take notice at 
present, is Campanella; 2 a philosopher now remembered 
chiefly in consequence of his eccentrick character and 
eventful life, but of whom Leibnitz has spoken in terms of 
such high admiration, as to place him in the same line with 
Bacon. After looking into several of his works with some 

1 The claims of Alhericus Gentilis to be regarded as the Father 
of Natural Jurisprudence , are strongly asserted by his country¬ 
man Lam;>redi, in his very judicious and elegant work, entitled. 
Juris Publici Theorcmata , published at Pisa in 1782. “ Hie pri¬ 

mus jus aliquod Belli et esse et tradi posse excogitavit, et Belli 
et Pacis regulas’explanavit primus, et fortasse in causa fuit Cur 
Grotius opus suum cotiscribere aggrederetur; dignus sane qui 
prae ceteris memoretur, Italiae enim, in qua ortus erat, et unde 
Juris Romani disciplinam hauserat, gloriam auxit, effecitque ut 
quae fuerat bonarum artium omnium restitutrix et altrix, eadem 
esset et prima Jurisprudentiae Naturalis magistral 

3 Born 1568, died 1639. 


CHAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


63 


attention, I must confess, I am at a loss to conceive upon 
what grounds the eulogy of Leibnitz proceeds; but as it is 
difficult to suppose, that the praise of this great man was, 
in any instance, the result of mere caprice, 1 shall put it 
in the power of my readers to judga for themselves, by 
subjoining a faithful translation of his words. I do this 
the more willingly, as the passage itself (whatever may be 
thought of the critical judgments pronounced in it,) con¬ 
tains some general remarks on intellecttial character , which 
are in every respect worthy of the author. 

u Some men, in conducting operations where an attention 
to minutiae is requisite, discover a mind vigorous, subtile, 
and versatile, and seem to be equal to any undertaking, how 
arduous soever. But when they are called upon to act on 
a greater scale, they hesitate and are lost in their own medi¬ 
tations ; distrustful of their judgment, and conscious of their 
incompetency to the scene in which they are placed : men, 
in a word, possessed of a genius rather acute than comprehen¬ 
sive. A similar difference may be traced among authors. What 
can be more acute than Descartes in Physicks, or than fjob- 
bes in Morals! And yet, if the one be compared with Bacon, 
and the other with Campanella, the former writers seem to 
grovel upon the earth,—the latter to soar to the Heavens, by 
the vastness of their conceptions, their plans, and their en¬ 
terprises, and to aim at objects beyond the reach of the hu¬ 
man powers. The former, accordingly, are best fitted for de¬ 
livering the first elements of knowledge, the latter for es¬ 
tablishing conclusions of important and general applica¬ 
tion.” 1 

4 Leibnit. Opera , vol. vi, p. 303, ed. Dutens.—It is probable 
that, in the above passage, Leibnitz alluded more to the elevat¬ 
ed tone of Campanella’s reasoning on moral and political sub¬ 
jects, when contrasted with that of Hobbes, than to the intel¬ 
lectual superiority of the former writer above the latter. No 
philosopher, certainly, has spoken with more reverence than 


64 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part U 


The annals of France, during this period, present very 
scanty materials for the History of Philosophy. The 
name of the Chancellor De 1’Hopital, however, must not 
be passed over in silence. As an author, he does not 
rank high ; nor does he seem to have at all valued himself 
on the careless effusions of his literary hours ; but, as an 
upright and virtuous magistrate, he has left behind him a 
reputation unrivalled to this day. 1 His wise and indul¬ 
gent principles on the subject of religious liberty, and the 
steadiness with which he adhered to them, under circum¬ 
stances of extraordinary difficulty and danger, exhibit a 
splendid contrast to the cruel intolerance, which, a few 
years before, had disgraced the character of an illustrious 
Chancellor of England. The same philosophical and 
truly catholick spirit distinguished his friend, the Presi¬ 
dent de Thou ; 3 and gives the principal charm to the just- 

Campanella has done, on various occasions, of the dignity of 
human nature. A remarkable instance of this occurs in his elo¬ 
quent comparison of the human hand with the organs of touch 
in other animals. (Vide Campan. Physiolog. cap. xx, Art. 2.) 
Of his Political Aphorisms (which form the third part of his 
treatise on Morals,) a sufficient idea for our purpose is convey¬ 
ed by the concluding corollary, “ Probitas custodit regem popu- 
losque; non autern indocta Machiavellistarura astutia.” On the 
other hand, Campanella’s works abound with immoralities and 
extravagancies far exceeding those of Hobbes. In his idea of 
a perfect commonwealth (to which he gives the name of Civitas 
Solis,) the impurity of his imagination, and the unsoundness of 
his judgment, are equally conspicuous. He recommends, under 
certain regulations, a community of women; and, in every 
thing connected with procreation, lays great stress on the opi¬ 
nions of astrologers. 

1 Magistrat au-dessus de tout eloge; et d’apres lequel on a 
juge tous ceux qui ont ose s’asseoir sur ce meme tribunal sans 
avoir son courage ni ses lumieres.” Henault, Abr'eg't Chronolo - 
gique. 

2 “One cannot help admiring,” says Dr. Jortin, “ the decent 
manner^ in which the illustrious Thuanus hath spoken of Cal- 


CHAP. 1.} 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


65 


1 y admired preface prefixed to his history. In tracing the 
progress of the human mind during the sixteenth century, 
such insulated and anomalous examples of the triumph of 
reason over superstition and bigotry, deserve attention, 
not less than what is due, in a history of the experimental 
arts, to Friar Bacon’s early anticipation of gunpowder, 
and of the telescope. 

Contemporary with these great men was Bodin (or Bo- 
dinus,) 1 an eminent French lawyer, who appears to have 
been one of the first that united a philosophical turn of 
thinking with an extensive knowledge of jurisprudence 
and of history. His learning is often ill digested, and 
his conclusions still oftener rash and unsound: yet it is 
but justice to him to acknowledge, that, in his views of the 
philosophy of law, he has approached very nearly to some 
leading ideas of Lord Bacon ; 2 while, in his refined com¬ 
binations of historical facts, he has more than once 
struck into a train of speculation, bearing a strong resem¬ 
blance to that afterwards pursued by Montesquieu. 3 Of 

vinAcri vir ac vehementi ingenio, et admirabili facundia 
praeditus; turn inter protestantes magni nominis Theologus.” 
(Life of Erasmus , p. 555.) The same writer has remarked the 
great decency and moderation with which Tliuanus speaks of 
Luther. Ibid. p. 113. 

1 Born 1530, died 1596. 

3 See, in particular, the preface to his book, entitled Methodus 
adfacilem Historianan cognitionem. 

3 See the work De la R'epublique , passim. In this treatise 
there are two chapters singularly curious, considering the time 
when they were written; the second and third chapters of the 
sixth book. The first is entitled Des Finances ; the second, Le 
Moyen d'cmpecher que les Monnoyes soyent alter'ees de Prix ou 
falsifies. The reasonings of the Author on various points 
there treated of will be apt to excite a smile among those who 
have studied the Inquiry into the Wealth of Nations; but it re¬ 
flects no small credit on a lawyer of the sixteenth century to 
have subjected such questions to philosophical examination ^ 


66 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1 


this resemblance, so remarkable an instance occurs in bis 
chapter on the moral effects of Climate, and on the attention 
due to this circumstance by the legislator, that it has re¬ 
peatedly subjected the author of the Spirit of Laws (but 
in my opinion without any good reason) to the imputation 
of plagiarism. 1 A resemblance to Montesquieu, still 
more honourable to Bodinus, may be traced in their com¬ 
mon attachment to religious as well as to civil liberty. To 
have caught, in the sixteenth century, somewhat of the 
philosophical spirit of the eighteenth, reflects less credit 
on the force of his mind, than to have imbibed, in the 
midst of the theological controversies of his age, those 
lessons of mutual forbearance and charity, which a long 
and sad experience of the fatal effects of persecution has, 
to this day, so imperfectly taught to the most enlightened 
nations of Europe. 

As a specimen of the liberal and moderate views of this 
philosophical politician, I shall quote two short passages 
from his Treatise De la Rkpubliqae , which seem to me 
objects of considerable curiosity, when contrasted with 
the general spirit of the age in which they were written. 
The first relates to liberty of conscience, for which he was 
a strenuous and intrepid advocate, not only in his pub¬ 
lications, but as a member of the Etats Gtneraux , assem¬ 
bled at Blois in 1576. “The mightier that a man is (says 

and to have formed so just a conception, as Bodin appears evi¬ 
dently to have done, not only of the object, but of the impor¬ 
tance of the modern science of political economy. 

Thuanus speaks highly of Bodin’s dissertations De re Moneta - 
ria, which l have never seen.—The same historian thus express¬ 
es himself with respect to the work De Republica: “ Opus in quo 
utomni scientiarura genere non tincti sed imbuti ingenii fidem 
fecit, sic nonnullis, qui recte judicant, non omninoab ostentatioim 
innate gentivitio vacuum se probavit. Hist. Lib. cxvii, ix» 

1 See Note D. 


Clfop. I.J 


Rrasr mssfeRTAtiON. 


07 


Bodih) the tnofe justly and temperately he ought to be¬ 
have himself towards all men, but especially towards his 
subjects. Wherefore the senate and people of Basil did 
wisely, who, having renounced the Bishop of Rome’s re¬ 
ligion, would not, Upon the sudden, thrust the monks and 
nuns, with the other religious persons, out of their abbeys 
and monasteries, but only took order, that, as they died, 
they should die both for themselves and their successors, 
expressly forbidding any new to be chosen in their places, 
so that, by that means, their colleges might, by little and 
little, by the death of the fellows, be extinguished. Where¬ 
by it came to pass, that all the rest of the Carthusians, of 
their own accord, forsaking their cloisters, yet one of them 
all alone for a long time remained therein, quietly and 
without any disturbance, holding the right of his convent, 
being never enforced to change either his place, or habit, 
or old ceremonies, or religion before by him received. 
The like order was taken at Coire in the diet of the Gri- 
sons; wherein it was decreed, that the ministers of the re¬ 
formed religion should be maintained of the profits and 
revenues of the church, the religious men nevertheless 
still remaining in their cloisters and convents, to be by 
their death suppressed, they being now prohibited to 
choose any new instead of them which died. By which 
means, they which professed the new religion, and they 
who professed the old, were both provided for. 1 ” 

1 Book iv, chap, iii.-—'The book from which this quotation is 
taken was published only twenty-three years after the murder of 
Servetus at Geneva; an event which leaves so deep a stain on 
the memory not only of Calvin, but on that of the milder and 
more charitable Melanchthon. The epistle of the latter to 
Bullinger, where he applauds the conduct of the judges who con¬ 
demned to the fiames this incorrigible heretick, affords the most 
decisive of all proofs, how remote the sentiments of the most en¬ 
lightened Fathers of the Reformation were from those Christian 
and philosophical principles of toleration, to which their noble 


70 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[pAHT 1 


the eccentricity of his religions tenets was such, as to in¬ 
cline the candid mind of Grotius to suspect him of a se¬ 
cret leaning to the Jewish faith. 1 

In contemplating the characters of the eminent persons 
who appeared about this era, nothing is more interesting 
and instructive, than to remark the astonishing combina¬ 
tion, in the same minds, of the highest intellectual endow¬ 
ments, with the most deplorable aberrations of the under¬ 
standing; and even, in numberless instances, with the 
most childish superstitions of the multitude. Of this ap¬ 
parent inconsistency, Bodinus does not furnish a solitary 
example. The same remark may be extended, in a great¬ 
er or less degree, to most of the other celebrated names 
hitherto mentioned- Melanchthon, as appears from his 
letters, was an interpreter of dreams, and a caster of na¬ 
tivities ; 2 and Luther not only sanctioned, by his au¬ 
thority, the popular fables about the sexual and prolifick 
intercourse of Satan with the human race, but seems to 
have seriously believed that he had himself frequently 
seen the arch enemy face to face, and held arguments with 
him on points of theology. 3 Nor was the study of the 
severer sciences, on all occasions, an effectual remedy 
against such illusions of the imagination. The sagacious 
Kepler was an astrologer and a visionary ; and his friend 

this we have the testimony of the illustrious historian just men¬ 
tioned. (Thuanus, Lib. cxvii, ix.) Nor did it recommend the 
author to the good opinion of the Catholick church, having 
been formally condemned and prohibited by the Roman Inqui¬ 
sition. The reflection of the Jesuit Martin del Rio on this oc¬ 
casion is worth transcribing “ Ado lubricum et periculosum de 
his disscrerc , nisi Dcum semper , et catholicam jidem , ecclesiaeque 
Romanac censuram tanqnam cynosuram seqnaris .” Disquisitionum 
Magicarum, Libri Sex. Auctore Martino del Rio, Societatis 
Jesu Preshytero. Venet. 1640, p. 8. 

1 Epist. ad Cordesiwn, (quoted by Bayle.) 

2 Jortin’s Life of Erasmus , p. 156. 

3 See Note E. 


CHAjP. 1.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


71 


Tycho Brahe, the Prince of Astronomers , kept an idiot 
in his service, to whose prophecies he listened as revela¬ 
tions from above. 1 Daring the long night of Gothick 
barbarism, the intellectual world had again become, like 
the primitive earth, “ without form and void the light 
had already appeared ; “ and God had seen the light that 
it was good but the time was not yet come to “ divide it 
from the darkness:” 2 

1 See the Life of Tycho Brahe, by Gassendi. 

2 I have allotted to Bodin a larger space than may seem due 
to his literary importance ; but the truth is, 1 know of no politi¬ 
cal writer, of the same date, whose extensive and various and 
discriminating reading appears to me to have contributed more 
to facilitate and to guide the researches of his successors; or 
whose references to ancient learning have been more frequently 
transcribed without acknowledgment. Of late, his works have 
fallen into very general neglect; otherwise it is impossible that 
so many gross mistakes should be current about the scope and 
spirit of his principles. By many he has been mentioned as a 
zealot for republican forms of Government (probably for no 
better reason than that he chose to call his book a Treatise De 
Republica •) whereas, in point of fact, he is uniformly a warm 
and able advocate for monarchy; and, although no friend to ty¬ 
ranny, has, on more than one occasion, carried his monarchical 
principles to a very blameable excess. (See, in particular, 
chapter fourth and fifth of the Sixth Book.) On the other 
hand, Grouvelle, a writer of some note, has classed Bodin with 
Aristotle, as an advocate for domestick slavery. “ The reason¬ 
ings of both,” he says, “ are refuted by Montesquieu.” (Dc Vaa- 
torit'e de Montesquieu dans la Rtrolulion prtscnte. Paris, 1789.) 
Whoever has the curiosity to compare Bodin and Montesquieu 
together, will be satisfied, that, on this point, their sentiments 
were exactly the same; and that, so far from refuting Bodin, 
Montesquieu has borrowed from him more than one argument 
in support of his general conclusion. 

The merits of Bodin have been, on the whole, very fairly 
estimated by Bayle, who pronounces him “one of the ablest 
men that appeared in France during the sixteenth century.” 
“ Si nous voulons disputer a Jean Bodin la qualite d’ecrivain 
e act et judicieux, laissons lui sans controverse, un grand genie, 
un vaste savoir, une memoire et une lecture prodigieuses.” 


72 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. 


In the midst of the disorders, both political and moral, 
of that unfortunate age, it is pleasing to observe the an¬ 
ticipations of brighter prospects, in the speculations of a 
few individuals. Bodinus himself is one of the number ; 1 
and to his name may be added that of his countryman and 
predecessor Budseus . 2 But, of all the writers of the six¬ 
teenth century, Ludovicus Yives seems to have had the 
liveliest and the most assured foresight ’of the new career 
on which the human mind was about to enter. The following 
passage from one of bis works would have done no dis¬ 
credit to the Novum Organon: “The similitude which 
many have fancied between the superiority of the moderns 
to the ancients, and the elevation of a dwarf on the b^tck of 
a giant, is altogether false and puerile. Neither were they 
giants, nor are we dwarfs, but all of us men of the same 
standard,—and we the taller of the two, by adding their 

1 See, in particular, his Method of Studying History , chap, vii, 
entitled Confutatio eorum qui quatuor Monarchias Aureaque Secu- 
la statuerunt. In this chapter, after enumerating some of the 
most important discoveries arid inventions of the moderns, he 
concludes with mentioning the art of printing, of the value of 
which he seems to have formed a very just estimate. “IJna 
Typographia cum omnibus veterum inventis certare facile po¬ 
test. Itaque non minus peccant, qui a veteribus aiunt omnia 
comprehensa, quam qui illos de veteri multarum artium posses- 
sione deturbant. Habet Natura scientiarum thesauros innume- 
rabiles, qui nullis aetatibus exhauriri possunt.” In the same 
chapter Bodinus expresses himself thus : “ aetas ilia quam auream 
vocant, si ad nostram conferatur, ferrca videri possit.” 

2 The works of Budseus were printed at Basle, in four vo¬ 
lumes folio, 1557. My acquaintance with them is much too 
slight to enable me to speak of them from my own judgment. 
No scholar certainly stood higher in the estimation of his age. 
“ Quo viro,” says Ludovicus Vives, “ Gallia acutiore ingenio, 
acriore judicio, exactiore diligentia, m.ijore eruditione nullum 
unquam produxit; hac vero aetate nec Italia quidem.” The 
praise bestowed on him by other contemporary writers of the 
highest eminence is equally lavish. 


CflAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


73 


height to our own: provided always, that we do not yield 
to them in study, attention, vigilance, and love of truth ; 
for, if these qualities be wanting, so far from mounting on 
the giant’s shoulders, we throw away the advantages of our 
own just stature, by remaining prostrate on the ground.” 1 

I pass over, without any particular notice, the names of 
some French logicians who flourished about this period, 
because, however celebrated among their contemporaries, 
they do not seem to form essential links in the History of 
Science. The bold and persevering spirit with which 
Ramus disputed, in the university of Paris, the authority 
of Aristotle, and the persecutions he incurred by this phi¬ 
losophical heresy, entitle him to an honourable distinction 
from the rest of his brethren. He was certainly a man of 
uncommon acuteness as well as eloquence, and placed in a 
very strong light some of the most vulnerable parts of the 
Aristotelian logick; without, however, exhibiting any 
marks of that deep sagacity which afterwards enabled Ba¬ 
con, Descartes, and Locke, to strike at the very roots of 
the System. His copious and not inelegant style as a wri¬ 
ter, recommended his innovations to those who were dis- 

1 Vives de Caus. Corrupt. Artium , Lib. i. Similar ideas occur 
in the works of Roger Bacon: “ Quanto juniores tanto perspi- 
caciores, quia juniores posteriores suecessione temporum ingre- 
diuntur labores priorum.” ( Opus Majus, edit. Jebb. p. 9.) Nor 
were they altogether overlooked by ancient writers. “Veniet 
tempus, quo ista quae latent nunc in lucem dies extrahet. et ion- 
gioris aevi diligentia. Veniet tempus, quo posteri nostri tam aper- 
ta nos ignorasse mirabuntur.” (Seneca, Quaest. Nat. Lib. vii, c. 
25.) This language coincides exactly with that of the Chancel¬ 
lor Bacon ; but it was reserved for the latter to illustrate the 
connexion between the progress of human knowledge , and of hu¬ 
man happiness ; or (to borrow his own phraseology) the connex¬ 
ion between the progress of knowledge, and the enlargement of 
man’s power over the destiny of his own species. Among other 
passages to this purpose, See Nov. Org. Lib. i, cxxix. 


72 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[fart 1. 


In the midst of the disorders, both political and moral, 
of that unfortunate age, it is pleasing to observe the an¬ 
ticipations of brighter prospects, in the speculations of a 
few individuals. Bodinus himself is one of the number ; 1 
and to iiis name mav be added that of his countryman and 
predecessor Budeeus . 2 But, of all the writers of the six¬ 
teenth century, Ludovicus Vives seems to have had the 
liveliest and the most assured foresight of the new career 
on w hich the human mind was about to enter. The follow ing 
passage from one of his works would have done no dis¬ 
credit to the Novum Organon: “The similitude which 
many have fancied between the superiority of the modems 
to the ancients, and the elevation of a dwarf on the b<ick of 
a giant, is altogether false and puerile. Neither were they 
giants, nor are we dwarfs, but all of us men of the same 
standard,—and we the taller of the two, by adding their 

1 See, in particular, his Method of Studying History , chap, vii, 
entitled Confutatio eorum qui quatuor Monarchias Aureaque Seen- 
la statuerunt. in this chapter, after enumerating some of the 
most important discoveries and inventions of the moderns, he 
concludes with mentioning the art of printing, of the value of 
which he seems to have formed a very just estimate. “Una 
Typographia cum omnibus veterum inventis certare facile po¬ 
test. Itaque non minus peccant, qui a veteribus aiunt omnia 
comprehensa, quani qui illos de veteri multarum artium posses- 
sione deturbant. Habet Natura scientiarum thesauros innume- 
rabiles, qui nullis aetatibus exhauriri possunt.” In the same 
chapter Bodinus expresses himself thus : “ aetas ilia quarn auream 
vocant, si ad nostram conferatur, ferrea videri possit.” 

2 The works of Budaeus were printed at Basle, in four vo¬ 
lumes folio, 1557. My acquaintance with them is much too 
slight to enable me to speak of them from my own judgment. 
No scholar certainly stood higher in the estimation of his age. 
“ Quo viro,” says Ludovicus Vives, “Gallia acutiore ingenio, 
acriore judicio, exactiore diligentia, rn.ijore eruditione nullum 
unquam produxit; hac vero aetate nec Italia quidem.” The 
praise bestowed on him by other contemporary writers of the 
highest eminence is equally lavish. 


CflAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


73 


height to our own: provided always, that we do not yield 
to them in study, attention, vigilance, and love of truth ; 
for, if these qualities be wanting, so far from mounting on 
the giant’s shoulders, we throw away the advantages of our 
own just stature, by remaining prostrate on the ground.” 1 
I pass over, without any particular notice, the names of 
some French logicians who flourished about this period, 
because, however celebrated among their contemporaries, 
they do not seem to form essential links in the History of 
Science. The bold and persevering spirit with which 
Ramus disputed, in the university of Paris, the authority 
of Aristotle, and the persecutions he incurred by this phi¬ 
losophical heresy, entitle him to an honourable distinction 
from the rest of his brethren. He was certainly a man of 
uncommon acuteness as well as eloquence, and placed in a 
very strong light some of the most vulnerable parts of the 
Aristotelian logick; without, however, exhibiting any 
marks of that deep sagacity which afterwards enabled Ba¬ 
con, Descartes, and Locke, to strike at the very roots of 
the system. His copious and not inelegant style as a wri¬ 
ter, recommended his innovations to those who were dis- 


1 Vives de Caus. Corrupt. Artium , Lib. i. Similar ideas occur 
in the works of Roger Bacon: “ Quanto juniores tanto perspi- 
caciores, quia juniores posteriores suecessione temporum ingre- 
diuntur labores priorum.” (Opus Majus , edit. Jebb. p. 9.) Nor 
were they altogether overlooked by ancient writers. “Veniet 
tempus, quo ista quae latent nunc in lucem dies extrahet. et lon- 
gioris aevi diligentia. Veniet tempus, quo posteri nostri tarn aper- 
ta nos ignorasse mirabuntur.” (Seneca, Quacst. Nat. Lib. vii, c. 
25.) This language coincides exactly with that of the Chancel¬ 
lor Bacon ; but it was reserved for the latter to illustrate the 
connexion between the progress of human knowledge , and of hu¬ 
man happiness ; or (to borrow his own phraseology) the connex¬ 
ion between the progress of knowledge, and the enlargement of 
man’s power over the destiny of his own species. Among other 
passages to this purpose, See Nov. Org. Lib. i, cxxix. 


74 FIRST DISSERTATION. (part i. 

gusted with the barbarism of the schools ; 1 while his 
avowed partiality for the reformed faith (to which he fell 
a martyr in the massacre of Paris,) procured many prose¬ 
lytes to his opinions in all the Protestant countries of Eu¬ 
rope. In England his logick had the honour, in an age of 
comparative light and refinement, to find an expounder and 
methodiser in the author of Paradise Lost; and in some 
of our northern universities, where it was very early in¬ 
troduced, it maintained its ground till it was supplanted by 
the logick of Locke. 

It has been justly said of Ramus, that, “ although he 
had genius sufficient to shake the Aristotelian fabrick, he 
was unable to substitute any thing more solid in its place 
but it ought not be forgotten, that even this praise, scan¬ 
ty as it may now appear, involves a large tribute to his 
merits as a philosophical reformer. Before human reason 
*vas able to advance, it was necessary that it should first 
be released from the weight of its fetters . 2 

1 To the accomplishments of Ramus as a writer, a very flat¬ 
tering testimony is given by an eminent English scholar, by no 
means disposed to overrate his merits as a logician. “ Pulsa 
tandem barbarie, Petrus Ramus politioris literaturae vir, ausus 
est Aristotelem acrius ubique et liberius incessere, universamque 
Peripateticam philosophiam exagitare. Ejus dialetica exiguo tem¬ 
pore fuit apud plurimos sutnrao in pretio, maxime eloquentiae stu- 
diosos, idque odio scholasticorum quorum dictio et stylus ingrata 
fuerant auribus Ciceronianis.” Logicae Artis Compendium, Auctore 
R. Sanderson, Episc. Lincoln, pp. 250, 251. Edit. Decima. 
Oxon. The first edition was printed in 1618. 

2 Dr. Barrow, in one of his mathematical lectures, speaks of 
Ramus in terms far too contemptuous. “ Homo, ne quid gravius 
dicam, argutulus et dicaculus .”—“ Sane vix indignationi meae 
tempero, quin ilium accipiam pro suo merito, regeramque validi- 
us in ejus caput, quae contra veteres jactat convieia.” Had Bar- 
row confined this censure to the weak and arrogant attacks made 
by Ramus upon Euclid (particulaly upon Euclid’s definition of 
Proportion,) it would not have been more than Ramus deserved; 
but it is evident he meant to extend it also to the more powerful 


CHAP. 1.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


75 


It is observed, with great truth, by Condorcet, that, 
in the times of which we are now speaking, “ the science 
of political economy did not exist. Princes estimated not 
the number of men, but of soldiers in the state;—finance 
was merely the art of plundering the people, without driv¬ 
ing them to the desperation that might end in revolt;—and 
governments paid no other attention to commerce, but that 
of loading it with taxes, of restricting it by privileges, or 
of disputing for its monopoly.” 

The internal disorders then agitating the whole of Chris¬ 
tendom, were still less favourable to the growth of this sci¬ 
ence, considered as a branch of speculative study. Reli¬ 
gious controversies every where divided the opinions of the 
multitude;—involving those collateral discussions concern¬ 
ing the liberty of conscience, and the relative claims of 
sovereigns and subjects, which, by threatening to resolve 
society into its first elements, present to restless and as¬ 
piring spirits the most inviting of all fields for enterprise 

attacks of the same reformer upon the logick of Aristotle. Of 
these there are many which may be read with profit even in 
the present times. I select one passage as a specimen, recom¬ 
mending it strongly to the consideration of those logicians 
who have lately stood forward as advocates for Aristotle’s abece¬ 
darian demonstrations of the syllogistick rules. “In Aristo- 
telis arte, unius praecepti unicum exemplum est, ac saepissime 
nullum : Sed unico et singulari exemplo non potest artifex effici; 
pluribus opus est et dissimilibus. Et quidem, ut Aristotelis ex- 
empla tantummodo non falsa sint, qualia tamen sunt ? Omne 
b est a ; omne c est b : ergo omne c est a. Exemplum Aristo¬ 
telis est puero a grammaticis et oratoribus venienti, et istam mu- 
torum Mathematicorum linguam ignoranti, novum et durum : et 
in totis Analyticis isia non Attic a, non Ionica, non Doric a, non 
Aeolica, non communi, sed geometrica lingua usus est Aristote- 
les, odiosa pueris, ignota populo, a communi sensu remota. a rheto- 
ricae usu et ab humanitatis usu alienissima ”(P. Rami pro Philo- 
sophica Parisiensis Academiae Disciplina Oratio , 1550.) If these 
strictures should be thought too loose and declamatory, the rea¬ 
der may consult the fourth chapter ( De Conversionibus ) of the 
seventh book of Ramus’s Dialectics , where the same charge is 
urged, in my opinion, with irresistible force of argument. 


1 6 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 


and ambition. Amidst the shock of such discussions, the 
calm inquiries which meditate in silence the slow and gra¬ 
dual amelioration of the social order, were not likely to pos¬ 
sess strong attractions, even to men of the most sanguine 
benevolence ; and, accordingly, the political speculations 
of this period turn almost entirely on the comparative ad¬ 
vantages and disadvantages of different forms of govern¬ 
ment ; or on the still more alarming questions concerning 
the limits of allegiance and the right of resistance. 

The dialogue of our illustrious countryman Buchanan, 
De Jure Regni apud Scotos , though occasionally disfi¬ 
gured by the keen and indignant temper of the writer, and 
by a predilection (pardonable in a scholar warm from the 
schools of ancient Greece and Rome) for forms of policy 
unsuitable to the circumstances of modern Europe, bears, 
nevertheless, in its general spirit, a closer resemblance to 
the political philosophy of the eighteenth century, than 
any composition which had previously appeared. The 
ethical paradoxes afterwards inculcated by Hobbes as the 
ground work of his slavish theory of government, are an¬ 
ticipated and refuted ; and a powerful argument is urged 
against that doctrine of Utility which has attracted so 
much notice in our times. The political reflections, too, 
incidently introduced by the same author in his History 
of Scotland, bear marks of a mind worthy of a better age 
than fell to his lot. Of this kind are the remarks with which 
he closes his narrative of the wanton cruelties exercis¬ 
ed in punishing the murderers of James the First. In read¬ 
ing them, one would almost imagine, that one is listening to 
the voice of Beccaria or of Montesquieu. “ After this 
manner,” says the historian, “ was the cruel death of 
James still more cruelly avenged. For punishments so 
far exceeding the measure of humanity, have less effect 
in deterring the multitude from crimes, than in rousing them 


CHAP. I.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


77 


to greater efforts, both as actors and as sufferers. Nor do 
they tend so much to intimidate by their severity as by 
their frequency to diminish the terrours of the spectators. 
The evil is more peculiarly great, when the mind of the 
criminal is hardened against the sense of pain ; for in the 
judgment of the unthinking vulgar, a stubborn confidence 
generally obtains the praise of heroick constancy.” 

After the publication of this great work, the name of 
Scotland, so early distinguished over Europe by the learn¬ 
ing and by the fervid genius 1 of her sons, disappears for 
more than a century and a half from the History of Let¬ 
ters.— But from this subject, so pregnant with melancholy 
and humiliating recollections, our attention is forcibly 
drawn to a mighty and auspicious light which, in a more 
fortunate part of the island, was already beginning to rise 
on the philosophical world . 2 

1 Praefervidum Scotorum ingenium. 

2 That, at the end of the sixteenth century, the Scotish nation 
were advancing not less rapidly than their neighbours, in every 
species of mental cultivation, is sufficiently attested by their 
literary remains, both in the Latin language, and in their own 
vernacular tongue. A remarkable testimony to the same pur¬ 
pose occurs in the dialogue above quoted; the author of which 
had spent the best years of his life in the most polished society 
Of the Continent. “ As often,” says Buchanan, “ as I turn my 
eyes to the niceness and elegance of our own times, the ancient 
manners of our forefathers appear sober and venerable, but withal 
rough and horrid.”—“ Quoties oculos ad nostri temporis mundi- 
tias et elegantiam refero, antiquitas ilia sancta et sobria, sed lior- 
rida tamen, et nondum satis expolita, fuisse videtur.” ( Dc Jure 
Regni apud Scotos.) One would think, that he conceived the 
taste of his countrymen to have then arrived at the ne plus ultra, 
of national refinement, 

Aurea nunc, olim sylvestribus horrida dumis. 

11 


78 


CHAPTER II. 


FROM THE PUBLICATION OF BACON’S PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS, TILL 
THAT OF THE ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


SECTION I. 

Progress of Philosophy in England during this period 

Bacon. 1 2 

1 he state of science towards the close of the sixteenth 
century presented a field of observation singularly cal¬ 
culated to attract the curiosity, and to awaken the genius 
of Bacon ; nor was it the least of his personal advantages, 
that as the son of one of Queen Elizabeth’s ministers, he 
had a ready access, wherever he went, to the most en¬ 
lightened society in Europe. While yet only in the se¬ 
venteenth year of his agp, he was removed by his father 
from Cambridge to Paris, where it is not to be doubted, that 
the novelty of the literary scene must have largely con¬ 
tributed to cherish the natural liberality and independence 
of his mind. Sir Joshua Reynolds has remarked, in one 
of his academical Discourses, that “ every seminary of 
learning is surrounded with an atmosphere of floating know¬ 
ledge, where every mind may imbibe somewhat congenial 
to its own original conceptions .” 3 He might have ad¬ 
ded, with still greater truth, that it is an atmosphere, of 

1 Born 1561, died 1626. 

2 Discourse delivered at the opening of the Royal Academy, 

January 2, 1769. 



CHAP. II.) 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


79 


which it is more peculiarly salutary, for those who have 
been elsewhere reared, to breathe the air. The remark is 
applicable to higher pursuits than were in the contem¬ 
plation of this philosophical artist; and it suggests a hint 
of no inconsiderable value for the education of youth. 

The merits of Bacon, as the father of Experimental Phi¬ 
losophy, are so universally acknowledged, that it would be 
superfluous to touch upon them here. The lights which he 
has struck out in various branches of the Philosophy of 
Mind, have been much less attended to ; although the 
whole scope and tenour of his speculations shew, that to 
this study his genius was far more strongly and happily 
turned, than to that of the Material World. It was not, as 
some seem to have imagined, by sagacious anticipations of 
particular discoveries afterwards to be made in physicks, 
that his writings have had so powerful an influence in ac¬ 
celerating the advancement of that science. In the extent 
and accuracy of his physical knowledge, he was far inferiour 
to many of his predecessors; but he surpassed them all in 
his knowledge of the laws, the resources, and the limits of the 
human understanding. The sanguine expectations with 
which he looked forwards to the future, were founded sole¬ 
ly on his confidence in the untried capacities of the mind ; 
and on a conviction of the possibility of invigorating and 
guiding, by means of logical rules, those faculties, which, in 
all our researches after truth, are the organs or instruments 
to be employed. “ Such rules,” as he himself has observ¬ 
ed, “ do in some sort equal men’s wits, and leave no great 
advantage or preeminence to the perfect and excellent mo¬ 
tions of the spirit. To draw a straight line, or to describe 
a circle, by aim of hand only, there must be a great differ¬ 
ence between an unsteady and unpractised hand, and a 
steady and practised ; but to do it by rule or compass it is 
much alike.” 


80 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part. i. § I. 


Nor is it merely as a logician that Bacon is entitled to no¬ 
tice on the present occasion. It would be difficult to name 
another writer prior to Locke, whose works are enriched 
with so many just observations on the intellectual phe¬ 
nomena. Among these, the most valuable relate to the laws 
of Memory, and of Imagination ; the latter of which sub¬ 
jects he seems to have studied with peculiar care. In one 
short but beautiful paragraph concerning Poetry (under 
which title may be comprehended all the various creations 
of this faculty) he has exhausted every thing that philoso¬ 
phy and good sense have yet had to offer, on what has 
been since called the Beau Ideal; a topick, which has fur¬ 
nished occasion to so many over-refinements among the 
French criticks, and to so much extravagance and mysticism 
in the cloud-capt metaphysicks of the new German school . 1 
In considering imagination as connected with the nervous 
system, more particularly as connected with that species 
of sympathy to which medical writers have given the name 
of imitation , he has suggested some very important hints, 
which none of his successors have hitherto prosecuted ; 

1 “ Cum rnundus sensibilis sit anima rationali dignitate inferior, 
videtur Poe sis haec humanae naturae largiri quae hisloria dene- 
gat; atque animo umbris rerum utcunque satisfacere, cum solida 
haberi non possint. Si quis enim rem acutius introspiciat, firm uni 
ex Poesi suinitur argumentum, magnitudinem rerum magis ilius- 
trem, ordinem magis perfectum, et varietatem magis pulchram, 
animae humanae complacere, quam in natura ipsa, post lapsum, 
reperiri ullo modo possit. Quapropter, cum res gestae et eventus, 
qui verae historiae subjiciuntur, non sint ejus amplitudinis, in qua 
anima humana sibi satisfaciat, praesto est Poesis , quae facta magis 
heroica confingat. Cum historia vera successus rerum, minime 
pro meritis virtutum et scelerum, narret, corrigit earn Pcejsis, et 
exitus, et fortunas, secundum merita, et ex lege Nemeseos, exhi- 
bet. Cum historia vera obvia rerum satietate et similitudine, 
animae humanae fastidio sit, reficit earn Poesis, inexpectata, et 
varia, et vicissitudinum plena canens. Adeo ut Poesis ista non 
solum ad delectationem, sed ad animi magnitudinem, et ad mores 
eonferat ” (De Aug , ScienU Lib. ii, cap. xiii.) 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


81 


and has, at the same time, left an example of cautious 
inquiry, worthy to be studied by all who may attempt to 
investigate the laws regulating the union between Mind and 
Body. 1 His illustration of the different classes of prejudi¬ 
ces incident to human nature, is, in point of practical 
utility, at least equal to any thing on that head to be found 
in Locke ; of whom it is impossible to forbear remarking, as 
a circumstance not easily explicable, that he should have 
resumed this important discussion, without once mentioning 
the name of his great predecessor. The chief improve¬ 
ment made by Locke, in the farther prosecution of the 
argument, is the application of Hobbes’s theory of associa¬ 
tion, to explain in what manner these prejudices are origi¬ 
nally generated. 

1 To this branch of the philosophy of mind, Bacon gives the 
title of Doctrina dc foedere, sive de commvni vinculo animac ct 
corporis. (Dc Aug. Scient. Lib. iv, cap. i.) Under this article, 
he mentions, among other desiderata , an inquiry (which he 
recommends to physicians) concerning the influence of imagina¬ 
tion over the body. His own words are very remarkable; more par¬ 
ticularly, the clause in which he remarks the effect of fixing and 
concentrating the attention, in giving to ideal objects the power 
of realities over the belief. “Ad aliud quippiam, quod hue per- 
tinet, parce admodum, nec pro rei subtilitate, vel utilitate, inqui- 
situm est; quatenus scilicet ipsa imaginatio animae vel cogitatio 
perquam jixa , ct vcluti infidem quandam exaltata, valeat ad immu- 
tandum corpus imaginantis.” (Ibid.) He suggests also, as a 
curious problem, to ascertain how far it is possible to fortify *uid 
exalt the imagination ; and by what means this may most effec¬ 
tually be done. The class of facts here alluded to, are manifestly 
of the same description with those to which the attention of phi¬ 
losophers has been lately called by the pretensions of Mesmer 
and of Perkins : “Atque huic conjuncta est disquisitio, quomodo 
imaginatio intendi et fortificari possit ? Quippe, si imaginatio 
fortis tantarum sit virium, operae pretium fuerit nesse, quibus 
modis earn exaltari, et se ipsa majorem fieri detur ? Atque hie 
oblique, nec minus periculose se insinuat palliatio quaedarn et 
defensio maximae partis Magiae Ceremonialism <fec. <fcc. Dc 
4ug. Scient. Lib. iv, cap. iii. 


82 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. § I. 


In Bacon’s scattered hints on topicks connected with 
the Philosophy of the Mind, strictly so called, nothing is 
more remarkable than the precise and just ideas they dis¬ 
play of the proper airn of this science. He had manifestly 
reflected much and successfully on the operations of his 
own understanding, and had studied with uncommon sagaci¬ 
ty the intellectual characters of others. Of his reflections 
and observations on both subjects, he has recorded many 
important results ; and has in general stated them without 
the slightest reference to any physiological theory concern¬ 
ing their causes, or to any analogical explanations founded 
on the caprices of metaphorical language. If, on some oc¬ 
casions, he assumes the existence of animal spirits , as the 
medium of communication between Soul and Body, it must 
be remembered, that this was then the universal belief of 
the learned ; and that it was at a much later period not less 
confidently avowed by Locke. Nor ought it to be overlook¬ 
ed (I mention it to the credit of both authors,) that in such 
instances the fact is commonly so stated, as to render it easy 
for the reader to detach it from the theory. As to the 
acholastick question concerning the nature and essence of 
mind,—whether it be extended or unextended ? whether it 
have any relation to space or to time ? or whether (as was 
contended by others) it exist in every ubi , but in no place? 
—Bacon has uniformly passed them over with silent con¬ 
tempt; and has probably contributed not less effectually to 
bring them into general discredit, by this indirect intimation 
of his own opinion, than if he had descended to the ungrate¬ 
ful task of exposing their absurdity. 1 

1 Notwithstanding the extravagance of Spinoza’s own philo¬ 
sophical creed, he is one of the very few among Bacon’s suc¬ 
cessors, who seem to have been fully aware of the justness, im¬ 
portance, and originality of the method pointed out in the 
Novum Organon for the study of the Mind. “ Ad haec intelli- 


ZHAt. !».] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


83 


While Bacon, however, so cautiously avoids these un¬ 
profitable discussions about the nature of Mind, he decid¬ 
edly states his conviction, that the faculties of Man differ 
not merely in degree, but in kind, from the instincts of the 
brutes. “ I do not, therefore,” he observes on one occa¬ 
sion, “ approve of that confused and promiscuous method 
in which philosophers are accustomed to treat of pneuma- 
tology ; as if the human Soul ranked above those of brutes, 
merely like the sun above the stars, or like gold above 
other metals.” 

Among the various topicks started by Bacon for the con¬ 
sideration of future logicians, he did not overlook (what may 
be justly regarded in a practical view, as the most interest¬ 
ing of all logical problems) the question concerning the mu¬ 
tual influence of thought and of language on each other. 
u Men believe,” says he, “ that their reason governs their 
words ; but, it often happens, that words have power enough 
to react upon reason.” This aphorism may be considered 
as the text of by far the most valuable part of Locke’s Es¬ 
say ,—that which relates to the imperfections and abuse of 
words ; but it was not till within the last twenty years, that 
its depth and importance were perceived in all their extent. 

genda, non est opus naturam mentis cognoscere, sed sufficit, men¬ 
tis sive perceptionum historiolam concinnare modo illo quo Veru- 
eamius docet.” Spin. Epist. 42. 

In order to comprehend the whole merit of this remark, it 
is necessary to know that, according to the Cartesian phraseolo¬ 
gy, which is here adopted by Spinoza, the word perception is a 
general term, equally applicable to all the intellectual operations. 
The words of Descartes himself are these: “ Omnes modi cogi- 
tandi, quos in nobis experimur, ad duos generates referri possunt: 
quorum unus est, perception sive operatio intellects; alius vero, 
volitio, sive operatio voluntatis. Nam sentire, imaginari, etpure 
intelligerc. sunt tantmn diversi modi percipiendi; ut et cupere, aver 
sari, affirmare, negare, dubitare, sunt diversi modi volendi. 55 
Prime. Phil, Pars I, $ 32. 


84 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. $ I. 


I need scarcely say, that I allude to the excellent Memoirs 
of M. Prevost and of M. Degerando, on “ Signs consider¬ 
ed in their connexion with the Intellectual Operations.” 
The anticipations formed by Bacon, of that branch of mo¬ 
dern logick which relates to Universal Grammar , do no 
less honour to his sagacity. “ Grammar,” he observes, 
“ is of two kinds, the one literary, the other philosophical. 
The former has for its objects to trace the analogies run¬ 
ning through the structure of a peculiar tongue, so as to 
facilitate its acquisition to a foreigner, or to enable him to 
speak it with correctness and purity. The latter directs 
the attention, not to the analogies which words bear to 
words, but to f he analogies which words bear to things ;” 1 
or, as he afterwards explains himself more clearly, “ to 
language considered as the sensible portraiture or image of 
the mental processes.” In farther illustration of these 
hints, he takes notice of the lights which the different ge¬ 
nius of different languages reflect on the characters and ha¬ 
bits of those by whom they were respectively spoken. 
“ Thus,” says he, “'it is easy to perceive, that the Greeks 
were addicted to the culture of the arts, the Romans en¬ 
grossed with the conduct of affairs ; inasmuch, as the tech¬ 
nical distinctions introduced in the progress of refinement 
require the aid of compounded words ; while the real busi¬ 
ness of life stands in no need of so artificial a phraseology.” 2 
Ideas of this sort have, in the course of a very few years, 
already become common, and almost tritical; but how dif¬ 
ferent was the case two centuries ago ! 

With these sound and enlarged views concerning the 
Philosophy of the mind, it will not appear surprising to 
those who have attended to the slow and irregular advances 

1 De Aug. Scient. Lib. vi, cap. i. 

2 Ibid. 


CM AT. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


83 


of human reason, that Bacon should occasionally blend in* 
cidental remarks, savouring of the habits of thinking preva¬ 
lent in his time. A curious example of this occurs in the 
same chapter which contains his excellent definition or de¬ 
scription of universal grammar. “ This too,” he observes, 
“ is worthy of notice, that the ancient languages were full 
of declensions, of cases, of conjugations, of tenses, and of 
other similar inflections; while the modern, almost entirely 
destitute of these, indolently accomplish the same purpose 
by the help of prepositions, and of auxiliary verbs.—- 
Whence,” he continues, “ may be inferred (however we may 
flatter ourselves with the idea of our own superiority,) that 
the human intellect was much more acute and subtile in 
ancient, than it now is in modern times.” 1 How very 
unlike is this last reflection to the usual strain of Bacon’s 
writings ! It seems, indeed, much more congenial to the 
philosophy of Mr. Harris and of Lord Monboddo ; and it 
has accordingly been sanctioned with the approbation of 
both these learned authors. If my memory does not de¬ 
ceive me, it is the only passage in Bacon’s works, which 
Lord Monboddo has any where condescended to quote. 

These observations afford me a convenient opportunity 
for remarking the progress and diffusion of the philosophi¬ 
cal spirit, since the beginning of the seventeenth century. 
In the short passage just cited from Bacon, there are in¬ 
volved no less than two capital errours, which are now al¬ 
most universally ranked, by men of education, among the 
grossest prejudices of the multitude. The one, that the 
declensions and conjugations of the ancient languages, and 
the modern substitution in their place, of prepositions and 
auxiliary verbs, are, both of them, the deliberate and sys¬ 
tematical contrivances of speculative grammarians; the 


1 De Aug. Scicnt. Lib. vi, cap. i. 
12 


86 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I, $■!. 


other (still less analogous to Bacon’s general style of rea¬ 
soning,) that the faculties of man have declined, as the 
world has grown older. Both of these errours may be 
now said to have disappeared entirely. The latter, more 
particularly, must, to the rising generation, seem so absurd, 
that it almost requires an apology to have mentioned it. 
That the capacities of the human mind have been in all 
ages the same ; and that the diversity of phenomena exhi¬ 
bited by our species, is the result merely of the different 
circumstances in which men are placed, has been long re¬ 
ceived as an incontrovertible logical maxim ; or rather, such 
is the influence of early instruction, that we are apt to re¬ 
gard it as one of the most obvious suggestions of common 
sense. And yet, till about the time of Montesquieu, it was 
by no means so generally recognized by the learned, as to 
have a sensible influence on the fashionable tone of thinking 
over Europe. The application of this fundamental and 
leading idea to the natural or theoretical history of society 
in all its various aspects:—to the history of languages, of 
the arts, of the sciences, of laws, of government, of manners, 
and of religion,—is the peculiar glory of the latter half of 
the eighteenth century ; and forms a characteristical feature 
in its philosophy, which even the imagination of Bacon was 
unable to foresee. 

It would be endless to particularize the original sugges¬ 
tions thrown out bv Bacon on topicks connecled with the 
scince of Mind. The few passages of this sort already 
quoted, are produced merely as a specimen of the rest. 
They are by no means selected as the most important in 
his writings ; but, as they happened to be those which had 
left the strongest impression on my memory, I thought them 
as likely as any other, to invite the curiosity of my readers 
to a careful examination of the rich mine from which they 
are extracted. 


CHIP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


87 


The Ethical disquisitions of Bacon are almost entirely of 
a practical nature. Of the two theoretical questions, so 
much agitated, in both parts of this Island, during the 
eighteenth century, concerning the principle and the object 
of moral approbation, he has said nothing; but he has 
opened some new and interesting views with respect to the 
influence of custom and the formation of habits ;—a most 
important article of moral philosophy, on which he has en¬ 
larged more ably and more usetully than any writer since 
Aristotle. 1 Under the same head of Ethicks may be men¬ 
tioned the small volume to which he has given the title of 
Essays ; the best known and the most popular of all his 
works. It is also one of those where the superiority of his 
genius appears to the grealest advantage ; the novelty and 
depth of his reflections often receiving a strong relief from 
the triteness of his subject. It may be read from begin¬ 
ning to end in a few hours,—and yet, after the twentieth 
perusal, one seldom fails to remark in it something over¬ 
looked before. This, indeed, is a characteristick of all 
Bacon’s writings, and is only to be accounted for by the in¬ 
exhaustible aliment they furnish to our own thoughts, and 
the sympathetick activity they impart to our torpid fa¬ 
culties. 

The suggestions of Bacon for the improvement of Poli¬ 
tical Philosophy, exhibit as strong a contrast to the nar¬ 
row systems of contemporary statesmen, as the Inductive 
Logick to that of the Schools. How profound and com¬ 
prehensive are the views opened in the following passages 
when compared with the scope of the celebrated treatise 
De Jure Belli et Pads; a work which was first published 
about a year before Bacon’s death, and which continued, 
for a hundred and fifty years afterwards, to be regarded 


1 De Aug . Scient. Lib. vii, cap. iii. 


88 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


{part I. § «- 


in all Protestant universities of Europe as an inexhaustible 
treasure of moral and jurisprudential wisdom ! 

“ The ultimate object which legislators ought to have 
in view, and to which all their enactments and sanctions, 
ought to be subservient, is, that the citizens may live hap¬ 
pily. For this purpose, it is necessary that they should 
receive a religious and pious education ; that they should 
be trained to good morals ; that they should be se¬ 
cured from foreign enemies by proper military arrange¬ 
ments; that they should be guarded by an effectual police 
against seditions and private injuries; that they should be 
loyal to government, and obedient to magistrates ; and final¬ 
ly, that they should abound in wealth, and in other national 
resources.” 1 —“ The science of such matters certainly be¬ 
longs more particularly to the province of men who, by ha¬ 
bits of publick business, have been led to take a compre¬ 
hensive survey of the social order ; of the interests of the 
community at large ; of the rules of natural equity ; of the 
manners of nations ; of the different forms of government; 
anti who are thus prepared to reason concerning the wisdom 
of laws, both from considerations of justice and of policy. 
The great desideratum, accordingly, is, by investigating 
the principles of natural justice , and those of political ex¬ 
pediency, to exhibit a theoretical model of legislation, which, 

1 Exemplum Tractatus de Fontibus Juris , Aphor. 5. This enu¬ 
meration of the different objects of law approaches very nearly 
to Mr. Smith’s ideas on the same subject, as expressed by him¬ 
self in the concluding sentence of his Theory of Moral Senti¬ 
ments. “In another Discourse, I shall endeavour to give an ac¬ 
count of the general principles of law and government, and of 
the different revolutions they have undergone in the different ages 
and periods of society; not only in what concerns justice, but 
in what concerns police, revenue, and arms, and whatever else 
is the object of law.” 


«pup, II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


89 


while it serves as a standard for estimating the comparative 
excellence of municipal codes, may suggest hints for their 
correction and improvement, to such as have at heart the 
welfare of mankind.” 1 

How precise the notion was that Bacon had formed of a 
philosophical system of jurisprudence (with which, as a 
standard, the municipal laws of different nations might be 
compared,) appears from a remarkable expression, in which 
he mentions it as the proper business of those who might 
attempt to carry his plan into execution, to investigate those 
“ legfs legum, ex quibus inforraatio peti possit, quid 
in singulis legibus bene aut perperam positum aut constitu- 
turn sit.” 8 I do not know if, in Bacon’s prophetick antici- 

1 De Aug. Sclent. Lib. viii, cap. iii. 

2 De Fontibus Juris , Aphor. 6. 

From the preface to a small tract of Bacon’s, entitled, The Ele¬ 
ments of the Common Lams of England , (written while he was 
Solicitor General to Queen Elizabeth), we learn, that the phrase 
legum leges had been previously used by some “great Civilian.” 
To what civilian Bacon here alludes, I know not; but, whoever 
he was, I doubt much if he annexed to it the comprehensive and 
philosophical meaning, so precisely explained in the above de¬ 
finition. Bacon himself, when he wrote his Tract on the Com¬ 
mon Laws, does not seem to have yet risen to this vantage- 
ground of Universal Jurisprudence. His great object (he tells us) 
was “to collect the rules and grounds dispersed throughout the 
body of the same laws, in order to see more profoundly into the 
reason of such judgments and ruled cases, and thereby to make 
more use of them for the decision of other cases more doubtful; 
so that the uncertainty of law, which is the principal and most 
just challenge that is made to the laws of our nation at this time, 
will, by this new strength laid to the foundation, be somewhat 
the more settled and corrected.” In this passage, no reference 
whatever is made to the Universal Justice spoken of in the apho- 
risms de Fontibus Juris ; but merely to the leading and governing 
rules which give to a municipal system whatever it possesses of 
analogy and consistency. To these rules Bacon gives the title 
of leges legum; but the meaning of the phrase, on this occasion, 
differs from that in which he afterwards employed it, not less 
widely, than the rules of Latin or of Greek syntax differ from 
the principles of Universal Grammar. 


90 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. $ I. 


pations of the future progress of physicks, there be any thing 
more characteristical, both of the grandeur and of the just¬ 
ness of his conceptions, than this short definition ; more 
particularly, when we consider how widely Grotius, in a 
work professedly devoted to this very inquiry, was soon 
after to wander from the right path, in consequence of his 
vague and wavering idea of the aim of his researches. 

Tlte sagacity, however, displayed in these, and various 
other passages of a similar import, can by no means be 
duly appreciated, without attending, at the same time, to 
the cautious and temperate maxims so frequently inculcat¬ 
ed by the author, on the subject of political innovation. 
t£ A stubborn retention of customs is a turbulent thing, not 
less than the introduction of new.”—“ Time is the great¬ 
est innovator ; shall we then not imitate time, which innovates 
so silently as to mock the sense?” Nearly connected with 
these aphorisms, are the profound reflections in the first 
book De Augmentis Scienfiarum , on the necessity of ac¬ 
commodating every new institution to the character and 
circumstances of the people for whom it is intended ; and 
on the peculiar danger which literary men run, of overlook¬ 
ing this consideration, from the familiar acquaintance they 
acquire, in the course of their early studies, with the ideas 
and sentiments of the ancient classicks. 

The remark of Bacon on the systematical policy of 
Henry VII, was manifestly suggested by the same train 
of thinking. “ His law r s (whoso marks them well) were 
deep and not vulgar; not made on the spur of a particular 
occasion for the present, but out of providence for the fu¬ 
ture ; to make the estate of hispeople still more and more 
happy, after the manner of the legislators in ancient and he- 
roick times.” How far this noble eulogy was merited, either 
by the legislators of antiquity, or by the modern Prince on 
whom Bacon has bestowed it, is a question of little moment. 


(.hap. it:} 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


91 


I quote it merely on account of the important philosophi¬ 
cal distinction which it indirectly marks, between “ deep 
and vulgar laws the former invariably aiming to accom¬ 
plish their end, not by giving any sudden shock to the feel¬ 
ings and interests of the existing generation, but by allow¬ 
ing to natural causes time and opportunity to operate; 
and by removing those artificial obstacles which check the 
progressive tendencies of society. It is probable, that, on 
this occasion, Bacon had an eye more particularly to the 
memorable statute of alienation ; to the effects of which 
(whatever were the motives of its author) the above de¬ 
scription certainly applies in an eminent degree. 

After all, however, it must be acknowledged, that it is 
rather in his general views and maxims, than in the details 
of his political theories, that Bacon’s sagacity appears to 
advantage. His notions with respect to commercial policy 
seem to have been more peculiarly erroneous; originating 
in an overweening opinion of the efficacy of law, in matters 
where natural causes ought to be allowed a free operation. 
It is observed by Mr. Hume, that the statutes of Henry 
VII, relating to the police of his kingdom, are generally 
contrived with more judgment than his commercial regula¬ 
tions. The same writer adds, that “ the more simple ideas 
of order and equity are sufficient to guide a legislator in 
every thing that regards the internal administration of jus¬ 
tice ; but that the principles of commerce are much more 
complicated, and require long experience and deep reflec¬ 
tion to be well understood in any state. The real conse¬ 
quence is there often contrary to first appearances. No 
wonder, that, during the reign of Henry VII, these mat¬ 
ters were frequently mistaken ; and it may safely be affirm¬ 
ed, that, even in the age of Lord Bacon, very imperfect 
and erroneous ideas were formed on that subject.” 


92 FIRST DISSERTATION. (part i. f t.- 

The instances mentioned by Hume, in confirmation of 
these general remarks, are peculiarly gratifying to those 
who have a pleasure in tracing the slow but certain progress 
of reason and liberality. “ During the reign,” says he, “ of 
Henry VII, it was prohibited to export horses, as if that 
exportation did not encourage the breed, and make them 
more plentiful in the kingdom. Prices were also affixed to 
woollen cloths, to caps and hats, and the wages of labour¬ 
ers were regulated by law. It is evident, that these 
matters ought always to be left free , and be entrusted to 
the common course of business and commerce .”—“For a 
like reason,” the historian continues, “ the law enacted 
against inclosures, and for the keeping up of farmhouses, 
scarcely deserves the praises bestowed on it by Lord Ba¬ 
con. If husbandmen understand agriculture, and have a 
ready vent for their commodities, we need not dread a di¬ 
minution of the people employed in the country. During 
a century and a half after this period, there was a frequent 
renewal of laws and edicts against depopulation ; whence 
we may infer, that none of them were ever executed. The 
natural course of improvement at last provided a reme- 
dy.” 

These acute and decisive strictures on the impolicy of 
some laws highly applauded by Bacon, while they strongly 
illustrate the narrow and mistaken views in political econo¬ 
my, entertained by the wisest statesmen and philosophers 
two centuries ago, afford, at the same time, a proof of the 
general diffusion which has since taken place among the 
people of Great Britian, of juster and more enlightened 
opinions on this important branch of legislation. Wher¬ 
ever such doctrines find their way into the page of history, 
it may be safely inferred, that the publick mind is not indis* 
posed to give them a welcome reception. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


93 


The ideas of Bacon concerning the education of youth, 
were such as might be expected from a philosophical states¬ 
man. On the conduct of education in general, with a view 
to the development and improvement of the intellectual 
character, he has suggested various useful hints in different 
parts of his works ; but what I wish chiefly to remark at 
present is, the paramount importance wdiich he has attached 
to the education of the people,—comparing (as he has re¬ 
peatedly done) the effects of early culture on the under¬ 
standing and the heart, to the abundant harvest which re¬ 
wards the diligent husbandman for the toils of the spring. 
To this analogy he seems to have been particularly anxious 
to attract the attention of hi3 readers, by bestowing on edu¬ 
cation the title of the Georgicks of the Mind* identify¬ 
ing, by a happy and impressive metaphor, the two proudest 
functions entrusted to the legislator,—the encouragement 
of agricultural industry, and the care of national instruc¬ 
tion. In both instances, the legislator exerts a power which 
is literally productive or creative; compelling, in the one 
case, the unprofitable desert to pour forth its latent riches ; 
and in the other, vivifying the dormant seeds of genius and 
virtue, and redeeming from the neglected wastes of human 
intellect, a new and unexpected accession to the common 
inheritance of mankind. 

When from such speculations as these, we descend to the 
treatise De Jure Belli et Pads , the contrast is mortifying 
indeed. And yet, so much better suited were the talents 
and accomplishments of Grotius to the taste, not only of 
his contemporaries, but of their remote descendants, that, 
while the merits of Bacon failed, for a century and a half, 
to command the general admiration of Europe, 1 Grotius 

1 La celehrite en France des ecrits du Chancelier Bacon n’a 
guere pour date que celle de I’Encyclopedie.” (Histoire dcs Ma- 

13 


94 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. § s 


continued, even in our British universities, the acknowledg¬ 
ed Oracle of Jurisprudence and of Efhicks, till long after 
the death of Montesquieu. Nor was Bacon himself unap¬ 
prized of the slow growth of his posthumous fame. No wri¬ 
ter seems ever to have felt more deeply, that he properly be¬ 
longed to a later and more enlightened age;—a sentiment 
which he has pathetically expressed in that clause of his 
testament, where he “ bequeaths his name to posterity, after 
some generations shall be past.” 1 

Unbounded, however, as the reputation of Grotius was 
on the Continent, even before his own death, it was not 
till many years after the publication of the treatise De Jure 
Belli et Pads, that the science of natural jurisprudence 
became, in this Island, an object of much attention, even 
to the learned. In order, therefore, to give to the sequel 
of this section some degree of continuity, I shall reserve 
my observations on Grotius and his successors, till I shall 
have tinished all that I think it necessary to mention fur¬ 
ther, with respect to the literature of our own country, prior 
to the appearance of Mr. Locke’s Essay. 

The rapid advancement of intellectual cultivation in En¬ 
gland, between the years 1588 and 1640 (a period of al¬ 
most uninterrupted peace,) has been remarked by Mr. 
Fox. “The general improvement,” he observes, “in all 
arts of civil life, and above all, the astonishing progress of 

thematiques par Montucla, Preface, p. ix.) It is an extraordinary 
circumstance, that Bayle, who has so often wasted his erudition 
and acuteness on the most insignificant characters, and to whom 
Le Clerc has very justly ascribed the merit of une exactitude 
etonnante dans des chases de neant , should have devoted to Bacon 
only twelve lines of his Dictionary. 

1 See Note F. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


95 


literature, are the most striking among the general features 
of that period ; and are in themselves causes sufficient to 
produce effects of the utmost importance. A country 
whose language was enriched by the works of Hooker, Ra¬ 
leigh, and Bacon, could not but experience a sensible change 
in its manners, and in its style of thinking; and even to 
speak the same language in which Spenser and Shakspeare 
had written, seemed a sufficient plea to rescue the Com¬ 
mons of England from the appellation of Brutes , with 
which Henry the Eighth had addressed them.”—The re¬ 
mark is equally just and refined. It is by the mediation of 
an improving language, that the progress of the mind is 
chiefly continued from one generation to another ; and that 
the acquirements of the enlightened few are insensibly im¬ 
parted to the many. Whatever tends to diminish the am¬ 
biguities of speech, or to fix, with more logical precision, 
the import of general terms ;—above all, whatever tends 
to embody, in popular forms of expression, the ideas 
and feelings of the wise and good, augments the natu¬ 
ral powers of the human understanding, and enables the 
succeeding race to start from a higher ground than was oc¬ 
cupied by their fathers. The remark applies with peculiar 
force to the study of the Mind itself; a study, where 
the.chief source of errour is the imperfection of words; 
and where every improvement on this great instrument ot 
thought may be justly regarded in the light of a disco¬ 
very. 1 

• It is not so foreign as may at first be supposed to the object 
of this Discourse, to take notice here of the extraordinary de¬ 
mand for books on Agriculture under the government of James I. 
The fact is thus very strongly stated by Dr. Johnson, in his in¬ 
troduction to the Harleian Miscellany. “It deserves to be re¬ 
marked, because it is not generally known, that the treatises on 


96 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. $ i. 


In the foregoing list of illustrious names, Mr. Fox has, 
with much propriety, connected those ot Bacon and Ra¬ 
leigh; two men, who, notwithstanding the diversity of their 
professional pursuits, and the strong contrast of their charac¬ 
ters, exhibit, nevertheless, in their capacity of authors, some 
striking features of resemblance. Both of them owed to 
the force of their own minds, their emancipation from the 
fetters of the schools ; both were eminently distinguished 
above their contemporaries, by the originality and enlarge¬ 
ment of their philosophical views ; and both divide, with 
the venerable Hooker, the glory of exemplifying to their 
yet unpolished countrymen, the richness, variety, and 
grace, which might be lent to the English idiom by the 
hand of a master . 1 

It is not improbable that Mr. Fox might have included 
the name of Hobbes in the same enumeration, had he not 
been prevented by an aversion to his slavish principles of 

husbandry and agriculture, which were published during the 
reign of King James, are so numerous, that it can scarcely be 
imagined by whom they were written, or to whom they were 
sold.” Nothing can illustrate more strongly the effects of a pa- 
cifick system of policy, in encouraging a general taste for read¬ 
ing, as well as an active spirit of national improvement. At all 
times, and in every country, the extensive sale of books on agri- 
culture, may be regarded as one of the most pleasing symptoms 
of mental cultivation in the great body of a people. 

1 To prevent being misunderstood, it is necessary for me to 
add, that I do not speak of the general style of these old authors ; 
but only of detached passages, which may be selected from all 
of them, as earnests or first fruits of a new and brighter era in 
English literature. It may be safely affirmed, that in their 
works, and in the prose compositions of Milton, are to be found 
some of the finest sentences of which our language has yet to 
boast. To propose them now as models for imitation, would be 
quite absurd. Dr. Lowth certainly went much too far when he 
said, “ That in correctness, propriety, and purity of English style. 
Hooker hath hardly been surpassed, or even equalled, by any of 
his successors.” Preface to Lowth's English Grammar\ 


CHAP. II.) 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


97 


government, and by his general disrelish for metaphysical 
theories. As a writer, Hobbes unquestionably ranks high 
among the older English classicks; and is so peculiarly 
distinguished by the simplicity and ease of his manner, that 
one would naturally have expected from Mr. Fox’s charac- 
teristical taste, that he would have relished his style still 
more than that of Bacon 1 or of Raleigh.—It is with the phi¬ 
losophical merits, however, of Hobbes, that w r e are alone 
concerned at present; and, in this point of view, what a 
space is filled in the subsequent history of our domestick 
literature, by his own works, and by those of his innume¬ 
rable opponents ! Little else, indeed, but the systems which 
he published, and the controversies which they provoked, 
occurs, during the interval between Bacon and Locke, to 
mark the progress of English Philosophy, either in the 

1 According to Dr. Burnet (no contemptible judge of style,) 
Bacon was “ the first that writ our language correctly.” The same 
learned prelate pronounces Bacon to be “ still our best author;” 
and this , at a time, when the works of Sprat, and many of the 
prose compositions of Cowley and of Dryden, were already in the 
hands of the publick. It is difficult to conceive on what 
grounds Burnet proceeded, in hazarding so extraordinary an 
opinion. See the preface to Burnet’s translation of More’s Uto¬ 
pia. 

It is still more difficult, on the other hand, to account for the 
following very bold decision of Mr. Hume. I transcribe it from 
an essay first published in 1742; but the same passage is to be 
found in the last edition of his works, corrected by himself. 
“ The first polite prose we have, was writ by a man (Dr. Swift) 
who is still alive. As to Sprat, Locke, and even Temple, they 
knew too little of the rules of art to be esteemed elegant writers. 
The prose of Bacon, Harrington, and Milton, is altogether stiff 
and pedantick ; though their sense be excellent.” 

How insignificant are the petty grammatical improvements 
proposed by Swift, when compared with the inexhaustible riches 
imparted to the English tongue by the writers of the seventeenth 
century; and how inleriour, in all the higher qualities and graces 
of style, are his prose compositions, to those of his immediate 
predecessors, Dryden, Pope, and Addison! 


98 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. 9 i. 


study of the Mind, or in the kindred researches of Ethical 
and Political Science. 

Of the few and comparatively trifling exceptions to this 
remark, furnished by the metaphysical tracts of Glanville, 
of Henry More, and of John Smith, I must delay taking 
notice, till some account shall be given of the Cartesian 
philosophy; to which their most interesting discussions 
have a constant reference, either in the way of comment or 
refutation. 


Hobbes . 1 

“ The philosopher of Malmesbury,” says Dr. Warbur- 
ton, “ was the terrour of the last age, as Tindall and Col¬ 
lins are of this. The press sweat with controversy; and 
every young churchman militant would try his arms in 
thundering on Hobbes’s steel cap.” 2 Nor was the oppo¬ 
sition to Hobbes confined to the clerical order, or to the 
controversialists of his own times. The most eminent 
moralists and politicians of the eighteenth century may be 
ranked in the number of his antagonists, and even at the 
present moment, scarcely does there appear a new publica¬ 
tion on Ethicks or Jurisprudence, where a refutation of 
Hobbism is not to be found. 

The period when Hobbes began his literary career, as 
well as the principal incidents of his life, were, in a singu¬ 
lar degree, favourable to a mind like his ; impatient of the 
yoke of authority, and ambitious to attract attention, if not 
by solid and useful discoveries, at least by an ingenious de¬ 
fence of paradoxical tenets. After a residence of five 
years at Oxford, and a very extensive tour through France 

1 Born 1588, died 1679. 

3 Divine Legation , Pref. to vol. II, p. 9. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


99 


and Italy, he had the good fortune, upon his return to 
England, to be admitted into the intimacy and confi¬ 
dence of Lord Bacon ; a circumstance which, we may pre¬ 
sume, contributed not a little to encourage that bold spirit 
of inquiry, and that aversion to scholastick learning, which 
characterize his writings. Happy, if he had, at the same 
time, imbibed some portion of that love of truth and zeal 
for the advancement of knowledge, w 7 hich seem to have 
been Bacon's ruling passions! But such was the obstinacy 
of his temper, and his overweening self-conceit, that, in¬ 
stead of co-operating with Bacon in the execution of his 
magnificent design, he resolved to rear, on a foundation ex¬ 
clusively his own, a complete structure both of Moral and 
Physical science ; disdaining to avail hirnself even of the 
materials collected by his predecessors, and treating the 
experimentarian philosophers as objects only of contempt 
and ridicule ! 1 

In the political writings of Hobbes, we may perceive 
the influence also of other motives. From his earliest 
years, he seems to have been decidedly hostile to all the 
forms of popular government; and it is said to have been 
with the design of impressing his countrymen with a just 
sense of the disorders incident to democratical establish¬ 
ments, that he published, in 1618, an English translation 
of Thucydides. In these opinions he was more and more 
confirmed by the events he afterwards witnessed in En¬ 
gland ; the fatal consequences of which he early foresaw 
with so much alarm, that, in 1640, he withdrew from the 
approaching storrn, to enjoy the society of his philosophi¬ 
cal friends at Paris. It was here he wrote his book De 
Cive , a few copies of which were printed, and privately 
circulated in 1642. The same work was afterwards given 
to the publick, with material corrections and improvements, 


1 See Note G. 


JOO 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. $ I* 


in 1647, when the author’s attachment to the royal cause 
being strengthened by his personal connexion with the ex¬ 
iled King, he thought it incumbent on him to stand forth 
avowedly as an advocate for those principles which he had 
long professed. Tne great object of this performance was, 
to strengthen the hands of sovereigns against the rising 
spirit of democracy, by arming them with the weapons of 
a new philosophy. 

The fundamenlal doctrines inculcated in the political 
works of Hobbes are contained in the following proposi¬ 
tions. I recapitulate them here, not on their own account, 
but to prepare the way for some remarks which I mean af¬ 
terwards to offer on the coincidence between the principles 
of Hobbes and those of Locke. In their practical conclu¬ 
sions, indeed, with respect to the rights and duties of citi¬ 
zens, the two writers differ widely ; but it is curious to ob¬ 
serve how very nearly they set out from the same hypo¬ 
thetical assumptions. 

All men are by nature equal; and, prior to government, 
they had all an equal right to enjoy the good things of this 
world. Man, too, is (according to Hobbes) by nature a 
solitary and purely selfish animal ; the social union being 
entirely an interested league, suggested by prudential views 
of personal advantage. The necessary consequence is, 
that a state of nature must be a state of perpetual warfare, 
in which no individual has any other means of safety than 
his own strength or ingenuity; and in which there is no room 
for regular industry, because no secure enjoyment of its 
fruits. In confirmation of this view of the origin of society, 
Hobbes appeals to facts falling daily within the circle of 
our own experience. “Does not a man, (he asks) when 
taking a journey, arm himself, and seek to go well accom¬ 
panied ? When going to sleep, does he not lock his doors ? 
Nay, even in his own house, does he not lock his chests ? 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


101 


Does he not there as much accuse mankind by his actions, 
as I do by my words ?” 1 An additional argument to the 
same purpose may, according to some later . Hobbists, be 
derived from the instinctive aversion of infants for stran¬ 
gers ; and from the apprehension which (it is- alleged) every 
person feels, when he hears the tread of an unknown foot 
in the dark. 

For Ihe sake of peace and security, it is necessary that 
each individual should surrender a part of his natural right, 
and be contented with such a share of liberty as he is will¬ 
ing to allow to others; or, to use Hobbes’s own language, 

“ every man must divest himself of the right he has to all 
things by nature; the right of all men to all things being in 
effect no better than if no man had a right to any thing.” 2 
In consequence of this transference of natural rights to an 
individual, or to a body of individuals, the multitude be¬ 
come one person, under the name of a State or Republick, 
by which person the common will and power are exercised 
for the common defence. The ruling power cannot be with¬ 
drawn from those to whom it has been committed; nor can 
they be punished for misgovernment. The interpretation 
of the laws is to be sought, not from the comments of phi¬ 
losophers, but from the authority of the ruler ; otherwise 
society would every moment be in danger of resolving it¬ 
self into the discordant elements of which it wrns at first 
composed. The will of the magistrate, therefore, is to be 
regarded as the ultimate standard of right and wrong, and 
his voice to be listened to by every citizen as the voice of 
conscience. 

Not many years afterwards , 3 Hobbes pushed the argu¬ 
ment for the absolute power of princes still further, in a 

1 Of Man , Part 1, chap. xiii. 

“De Corporc Politico , Part I, chap. i. § 10. 

3 In 1651. 


14 


102 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. § r. 


work to which he gave the name of Leviathan. Under 
this appellation he means the body politick ; insinuating, 
that man is an untameable beast of prey, and that govern¬ 
ment is the strong chain by which he is kept from mis¬ 
chief. The fundamental principles here maintained are 
the same as in the book De Cive; but as it inveighs more 
particularly against ecclesiastical tyranny, with the view 
of subjecting the consciences of men to the civil authori¬ 
ty, it lost the author the favour of some powerful protec¬ 
tors he had hitherto enjoyed among the English divines 
who attended Charles II, in France ; and he even found 
it convenient to quit that kingdom, and to return to England, 
where Cromwell (to whose government his political tenets 
were now as favourable as they were meant to be to the 
royal claims) suffered him to remain unmolested. The 
same circumstances operated to his disadvantage after the 
Restoration, and obligetl the King, who always retained 
for him a very strong attachment, to confer his marks of 
favour on him with the utmost reserve and circumspec¬ 
tion. 1 

The details which I have entered into, with respect to 
the History of Hobbes’s political writings, will be found, 
by those who may peruse them, to throu T much light on 
the author’s reasonings. Indeed, it is only by thus con¬ 
sidering them in their connexion with the circumstances of 
the times, and the fortunes of the writer, that a just notion 
can be formed of their spirit and tendency. 

The ethical principles of Hobbes are so completely in¬ 
terwoven with his political system, that all which has 
been said of the one may be applied to the other. It is 
very remarkable, that Descartes should have thought so 
highly of the former, as to pronounce Hobbes to be “ a 


1 See Note H. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


103 


much greater master of morality than of metaphysicks 
a judgment which is of itself sufficient to mark the very 
low state of ethical science in France about the middle of 
the seventeenth century. Mr. Addison, on the other hand, 
gives a decided preference (among all the books writ¬ 
ten by Hobbes) to his Treatise on Human Nature ; and 
to his opinion on this point t most implicitly subscribe ; in¬ 
cluding, however, in the sa ne commendation, some of his 
other philosophical essays on similar topicks. They are 
the only part of his works which it* is possible now to 
read with any interest ; and they every where evince in 
their author, even when he thinks most unsoundly himself, 
that power of setting his reader a-thinking, which is one 
of the most unequivocal marks of original genius. They 
have plainly been studied with the utmost care, both by 
Locke and Hume. To the former they have suggested 
some of his most important observations on the Associa¬ 
tion of Ideas, as well as much of the sophistry displayed 
in the first book of his Essay, on the Origin of our Know¬ 
ledge, and on the factitious nature of our moral principles ; 
to the latter (among a variety of hints of less consequence,) 
his theory concerning the nature of those established con¬ 
nexions among physical events, which it is the business of 
the natural philosopher to ascertain, 1 and the substance of 

1 The same doctrine, concerning the proper object of natural 
philosophy (commonly ascribed to Mr. Hume, both by his fol¬ 
lowers and by his opponents,) is to be found in various writers 
contemporary with Hobbes. It is stated, with uncommon pre¬ 
cision and clearness, in a book entitled Scepsis Scientifica, or 
Confessed Ignorance the way to Science; by Joseph Glanvill, 
(printed in 1665.) The whole work is strongly marked with 
the features of an acute, an original, and (in matters of science) 
a somewhat skeptical genius; and, when compared with the trea¬ 
tise on witchcraft, by the same author, adds another proof to 
those already mentioned, of the possible union of the highest in 
tellectua! gifts with the most degrading intellectual weaknesses 


104 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. § I. 


his argument against the scholastick doctrine of gene¬ 
ral conceptions. It is from the works of Hobbes, too, 
that our later Necessitarians have borrowed the most for¬ 
midable of those weapons with which they have com¬ 
bated the doctrine of moral liberty ; and from the same 
source has been derived the leading idea which runs 
through the philological materialism of Mr. Horne Tooke. 
It is probable, indeed, that this last author borrowed it, at 
second-hand, from a hint in Locke’s Essay ; but it is re¬ 
peatedly stated by Hobbes, in the most explicit and con¬ 
fident terms. Of this idea, (than which, in point of fact, 
nothing can be imagined more puerile and unsound,) Mr. 
Tooke’s etymologies, when he applies them to the solution 
of metaphysical questions, are little more than an ingeni¬ 
ous expansion, adapted and levelled to the comprehension 
of the multitude. 

The speculations of Hobbes, however, concerning the 
theory of the understanding, do not seem to have been 
nearly so much attended to during his own life, as some 
of his other doctrines, which, having a more immediate 
reference to human affairs, were better adapted to the un¬ 
settled and revolutionary spirit of the times. It is by 
these doctrines, chiefly, that his name has since become 
so memorable in the annals of modern literature; and al¬ 
though they now derive their whole interest from the ex¬ 
traordinary combination they exhibit of acuteness and sub- 
tilty with a dead-palsy in the powers of taste and of moral 
sensibility, yet they will be found, on an attentive exami¬ 
nation, to have had a far more extensive influence on 

With respect to the Scepsis Scientijica , it deserves to be notic¬ 
ed, that the doctrine maintained in it concerning physical 
causes and effects does not occur in the form of a detached ob¬ 
servation, of the value of which the author might not have 
been fully aware, but is the very basis of the general argument 
running through all his discussions. 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


CHAP. H.) 


105 


the subsequent history both of political and of ethical sci¬ 
ence, than any other publication of the same period. 


Antagonists of Hobbes. 

Cudworth 1 2 was one of the first who successfully combat¬ 
ed this new philosophy. As Hobbes, in the frenzy of 
his political zeal, had been led to sacrifice wantonly all the 
principles of religion and morality to the establishment of 
his conclusions, his works not only gave offence to the 
friends of liberty, but excited a general alarm among all 
sound moralists. His doctrine, in particular, that there is 
no natural distinction between Right and Wrong, and that 
these are dependent on the arbitrary will of the civil ma¬ 
gistrate, was so obviously subversive of all the commonly 
received ideas concerning the moral constitution of human 
nature, that it became indispensably necessary, either to 
expose the sophistry of the attempt, or to admit, with 
Hobbes, that man is a beast of prey, incapable of being 
governed by any motives but fear, and the desire of self- 
preservation. 

Between some of these tenets of the courtly Hobbists, 
and those inculcated by the Cromwellian Antinomians, 
there was a very extraordinary and unfortunate coinci¬ 
dence ; the latter insisting, that, in expectation of Christ’s 
second coming, “the obligations of morality and natural 
law were suspended ; and that the elect, guided by an in¬ 
ternal principle, more perfect and divine, were superiour to 
the beggarly elements of justice and humanity.” a Jt was 
the object of Cudworth to vindicate, against the assaults 
of both parties, the immutability of moral distinctions. 

1 Born 1617, died 1688. 

2 Hume.—For a more particular account of the English Anti¬ 
nomians, see Mosheim, vol. IV, p. 534, et seq . 


106 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. § I. 


In the prosecution of his very able argument on this 
subject, Cudworth displays a rich store of enlightened and 
choice erudition, penetrated throughout with a peculiar 
vein of sobered and subdued Platonism, from whence 
some German systems, which have attracted no small no¬ 
tice in our own times, will be found, when stripped of their 
deep neological disguise, to have borrowed their most va¬ 
luable materials . 1 

Another coincidence between the Hobbists and the An- 
tinomians, may be remarked in their common zeal for the 

1 The mind (according to Cudworth) perceives, by occasion 
of outward objects, as much more than is presented to it by 
sense, as a learned inan does in the best written book, than 
an illiterate person or brute. “ To the eyes of both, the same 
characters will appear; but the learned man, in those characters, 
will see heaven, earth, sun, and stars ; reap profound theorems of 
philosophy or geometry; learn a great deal of new knowledge 
from them, and admire the wisdom of the composer; while, to 
the other, nothing appears but black strokes drawn on white 
paper. The reason of which is, that the mind of the one is fur¬ 
nished with certain previous inward anticipations, ideas, and in¬ 
struction, that the other wants.”—“ In the room of this book of 
human composition, let us now substitute the book of Nature, 
written all over with the characters and impressions of divine 
wisdom and goodness, but legible only to an intellectual eye. 
To the sense, both of man and brute, there appears nothing else 
in it, but, as in the other, so many inky scrawls; that is, nothing 
but figures and colours. But the mind, which hath a participa¬ 
tion of the divine wisdom that made it, upon occasion of those 
sensible delineations, exerting its own inward activity, will have 
not only a wonderful scene, and large prospects of other thoughts 
laid open before it, and variety of knowledge, logical, mathe¬ 
matical, and moral displayed; but also clearly read the divine 
wisdom and goodness in every page of this great volume, as it 
were written in large and legible characters.” 

I do not pretend to be an adept in the philosophy of Kant; 
but l certainly think 1 pay it a very high compliment, when I 
suppose, that, in the Critick of pure Reason, the leading idea 
is somewhat analogous to What is so much better expressed in 
the foregoing passage. To Kant it was probably suggested by 
the following very acute and decisive remark of Leibnitz on 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


107 


scheme of necessity; which both of them stated in 
such a way as to be equally inconsistent with the moral 
agency of man, and with the moral attributes of God. 1 
The strongest of all presumptions against this scheme 
is afforded by the other tenets with which it is almost 
universally combined; and, accordingly, it was very 
shrewdly observed by Cudwortb, that the licentious 
system which flourished in his time (under which ti¬ 
tle, I presume, he comprehended the immoral tenets of 
the fanaticks, as well as of the Hobbists,) “ grew up 
from the doctrine of the fatal necessity of all actions and 
events, as from its proper root.” The unsettled, and, at 
the same time, disputatious period, during which Cud worth 
lived, afforded him peculiarly favourable opportunities of 
judging from experience, of the practical tendency of this 
metaphysical dogma ; and the result of his observations 

Locke’s Essay : “ Ncmpe, nihil est in intellectu, quod non fuerit 
insensu, nisi ipse intellcctus 

Injustice to Aristotle, it may be here observed, that, although 
the general strain of his language is strictly conformable to the 
scholastick maxim just quoted, lie does not seem to have alto¬ 
gether overlooked the important exception to it pointed out by 
Leibnitz. Indeed, this exception or limitation is very nearly a 
translation of Aristotle's words. K oci uvTog vovg vor^Tog zariv 9 
sg roc vanrot. I7ri pew yx% tuv anv to uvto wti to voov\ xcu 

to voovptivov. “ And the mind itself is an oi.jec-t of knowledge, 
as well as other things which are intelligible. For, in immate¬ 
rial beings, that which understands is the same with that which 
is understood.” (De Anima , Lib. iii, cap. v.) I quote this very 
curious, and, I suspect, very little known sentence, in order to 
vindicate Aristotle against the misrepresentations of some of 
his present idolaters, who, in their anxiety to secure to him all the 
credit of Locke’s doctrine concerning the Origin of our Ideas, 
have overlooked the occasional traces which occur in his works, 
of that higher and sounder philosophy in which he had been 
educated. 

1 “ The doctrines of fate or destiny were deemed by the Inde¬ 
pendents essential to all religion. In these rigid opinions, the 
whole sectaries , amidst all their other differences, unanimously 
concurred ” Hume’s History , chap. Ivii. 


108 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. $ I 


deserves the serious attention of those who may be dis¬ 
posed to regard it in the light of a fair and harmless theme 
for the display of controversial subtilty. To argue, in 
this manner, against a speculative principle from its palpa¬ 
ble effects, is not always so illogical as some authors have 
supposed. “ You repeat to me incessantly, v says Rous¬ 
seau to one of his correspondents, “ that truth can never 
be injurious to the world. I myself believe so as firmly 
as you do; and it is for this very reason 1 am satisfied that 
your proposition is false.” 1 

But the principal importance of Cudworth, as an ethi¬ 
cal writer, arises from the influence of his argument con¬ 
cerning the immutability of right and wrong on the vari¬ 
ous theories of morals which appeared in the course of 
the eighteenth century. To this argument may, more par¬ 
ticularly, be traced the origin of the celebrated question, 
Whether the principle of moral approbation is to be ul¬ 
timately resolved into Reason, or into Sentiment ?—a ques¬ 
tion, which has furnished the chief ground of difference 
between the systems of Cudworth and of Clarke, on the 
one hand; and those of Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Hume, 
and Smith, on the other. The remarks which I have to 
offer on this controversy must evidently be delayed, till 
the writings of these more modern authors shall fall under 
review. 

The Intellectual System of Cudworth, embraces a field 
much wider than his treatise of Immutable Morality . 
The latter is particularly directed against the ethical doc¬ 
trines of Hobbes, and of the Antinomians; but the former 
aspires to tear up by the roots all the principles, both 
physical and metaphysical, of the Epicurean philosophy. 

1 “ Vous repetez sans cesse que la verite ne peut jamais faire 
de mal aux hommes; je le crois. et c'est pour moi la preuve que 
ce que vous dites n’est pas la verite.” 


<;hap. ii.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


109 


If is a work, certainly, which reflects much honour on the 
talents of the author, and still more on the boundless ex¬ 
tent of his learning; but it is so ill suited to the taste of 
the present age, that, since the tiqie of Mr. Harris and Dr. 
Price, 1 scarcely recollect the slightest reference to it in 
the writings of our British metaphysicians. Of its faults 
(beside the general disposition of the author to discuss 
questions placed altogether beyond the reach of our fa- 
culties,) the most prominent is the wild hypothesis of a 
plastick nature; or, in other words, “of a vital and spiri¬ 
tual, but unintelligent and necessary agent, created by the 
Deity for the execution of his purposes.” Notwithstand¬ 
ing, however, these, and many other abatements of. its me¬ 
rits, the Intellectual System will for ever remain a precious 
mine of information to those whose curiosity may lead 
them to study the spirit of the ancient theories ; and to it 
we may justly apply what Leibnitz has somewhere said, 
with far less reason, of the works of the schoolmen, “ Scho- 
lasticos agnosco abundare ineptiis; sed ciurnm est in illo 
coeno.” 1 

Before dismissing the doctrines of Hobbes, it may be 
worth while to remark, that all his leading principles are 
traced by Cudworth to the remains of the ancient skep- 
ticks, by some of whom, as well as by Hobbes, they seem 
to have been adopted from a wish to flatter the uncontroll¬ 
ed passions of sovereigns. Not that I am disposed to 
call in question the originality of Hobbes ; for it appears, 
from the testimony of all his friends, that he had much 
less pleasure in reading than in thinking. “ If 1 had read,” 
he was accustomed to say, “as much as some others, I 
should have been as ignorant as they are.” But similar 

i The Intellectual System was published in 1673. The Trea¬ 
tise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality did not appear till 
a considerable number of years after the author’s death. 

15 


110 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[past 1. i I. 


political circumstances invariably reproduce similar phi¬ 
losophical theories; and it is one of the numerous disad¬ 
vantages attending an inventive mind, not properly furnish¬ 
ed with acquired information, to be continually liable to a 
waste of its powers on subjects previously exhausted. 

The sudden tide of licentiousness, both in principles 
and in practice, which burst into this island at the moment 
of the Restoration, conspired with the paradoxes of Hob¬ 
bes, and with the no less dangerous errours recently pro¬ 
pagated among the people by their religious instructors, to 
turn the thoughts of sober and speculative men towards 
ethical disquisitions. The established clergy assumed a 
higher tone than before in their sermons; sometimes em¬ 
ploying them in combating that Epicurean and Machiavel¬ 
lian philosophy which was then fashionable at court, and 
which may be always suspected to form the secret creed 
of the enemies of civil and religious liberty ;—on other oc¬ 
casions, to overwhelm, with the united force of argument 
and learning, the extravagancies by which the ignorant en¬ 
thusiasts of the preceding period had exposed Christiani¬ 
ty itself to the scoffs of their libertine opponents. Among 
the divines who appeared at this era, it is impossible to 
pass over in silence the name of Barrow, whose theolo¬ 
gical works (adorned throughout by classical erudition, 
and by a vigorous, though unpolished eloquence,) exhibit, 
in every page, marks of the same inventive genius, which, 
in mathematicks, has secured to him a rank second alone to 
that of Newton. As a writer, he is equally distinguished by 
the redundancy of his matter, and by the pregnant bre¬ 
vity of his expression ; but what more peculiarly characte¬ 
rizes his manner, is a certain air of powerful and of conscious 
facility in the execution of whatever he undertakes.— 
Whether the subject be mathematical, metaphysical, or 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


mup. ».) 


Ill 


theological, be seems always to bring to it a mind which 
feels itself superiour to the occasion ; and which, in con¬ 
tending with the greatest difficulties, “ puts forth but 
half its strength.” He has somewhere spoken of his 
Lecliones Mathematicae (which it inay, in passing, be re¬ 
marked, display metaphysical talents of the highest order,) 
as extemporaneous effusions of his pen ; and 1 have no 
doubt that the same epithet is still more literally applica¬ 
ble to his pulpit discourses. It is, indeed, only thus we 
can account for the variety and extent of his voluminous 
remains, when we recollect that the author died at the age 
of forty-six. 1 

To the extreme rapidity with which Barrow committed 
his thoughts to writing, l am inclined to ascribe the hasty 
and not altogether consistent opinions which he has haz¬ 
arded on some important topicks. I shall confine myself to 
a single example, which I select in preference to others, as 
it bears directly on the most interesting of all questions 
connected with the theory of morals. “ If we scan,” says » 
he, “ the particular nature, and search info the ori¬ 
ginal causes of the several kinds of naughty disposi¬ 
tions in our souls, and of miscarriages in our lives, we shall 
find inordinate self-love to be a main ingredient, and a com¬ 
mon source of them all ; so that a divine of great name had 


1 In a note annexed to an English translation of the Cardinal 
Maury’s Principles of Eloquence , it is stated, upon the authority 
of a manuscript of Dr. Doddridge, that most of Barrow’s ser¬ 
mons were transcribed three times, and some much oftener. They 
seem to me to contain very strong intrinsick evidence of the in¬ 
correctness of this anecdote.—Mr. Abraham Hill, (in his Ac¬ 
count of the Life of Barrow , addressed to Dr. Tillotson,) con¬ 
tents himself with saying, that “ Some of his sermons were 
written four or five times over;”—mentioning, at the same time, 
a circumstance which may account for this fact, in perfect con¬ 
sistency with what I have stated above,—that “ Barrow was very 
ready to lend his sermons as often as desired.” 


112 FIRST DISSERTATION. [part i. $ 1. 

some reason to affirm,— that original sin (or that innate 
distemper from which men generally become so very prone 
to evil, and averse to good,) doth consist in selt-love, dis¬ 
posing us to all kinds of irregularity and excess.” In 
another passage, the same author expresses himself thus : 
“ Reason dictateth and prescribeth to us, that we should 
have a sober regard to our true good and welfare ; to our 
best interests and solid content; to that which (all things 
being rightly stated, considered and computed) will, in the 
final event, prove most beneficial and satisfactory to us: 
a self-love working in prosecution of such things, common 
sense cannot but allow and approve.” 

Of these two opposite and irreconcilable opinions, the 
latter is incomparably the least wide of the truth; and ac¬ 
cordingly Mr. Locke, and his innumerable followers, both 
in England and on the Continent, have maintained, that 
virtue and an enlightened self-love are one and the same. I 
shall afterwards find a more convenient opportunity for stat¬ 
ing some objections to the latter doctrine, as well as to the 
former. I have quoted the two passages here, merely to 
show the very little attention that had been paid, at the era 
in question, to ethical science, by one of the most learned 
and profound divines of his age. This is the more re¬ 
markable, as his works every where inculcate the purest 
lessons of practical morality, and evince a singular acute¬ 
ness and justness of eye in the observation of human cha¬ 
racter. Whoever compares the views of Barrow, when 
he touches on the theory of morals, with those opened 
about fifty years afterwards by Dr. Butler, in his Dis¬ 
courses on Human Nature , will be abundantly satisfied, 
that, in this science, as well as in others, the progress of 
the philosophical spirit during the intervening period was 
not inconsiderable. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


113 


The name of Wilkins, (although he too wrote with some 
reputation against the Epicureans of his day,) is now re¬ 
membered chiefly in consequence of his treatises concern¬ 
ing a universal language and a real character. Of these 
treatises, I shall hereafter have occasion to take some notice, 
under a different article. With all the ingenuity displayed in 
them, they cannot be considered as accessions of much 
value to science ; and the long period since elapsed, during 
which no attempt has been made to turn them to any prac¬ 
tical use, affords of itself no slight presumption against the 
solidity of the project. 

A few years before the death of Hobbes, Dr. Cumber¬ 
land (afterwards Bishop of Peterborough) published a 
book, entitled, De Legibus Naturae , Disquisitio Philo - 
sophica ; the principal aim of which was to confirm and 
illustrate, in opposition to Hobbes, the conclusions of Gro- 
tius, concerning Natural Law. The work is executed 
with ability, and discovers juster views of the object of 
moral science, than any modern system that had yet ap¬ 
peared ; the author resting the strength of his argument, 
not, as Grotius had done, on an accumulation of authori¬ 
ties, but on the principles of the human frame, and the 
mutual relations of the human race. The circumstance, 
however, which chiefly entitles this publication to our 
notice is, that it seems to have been the earliest on the sub¬ 
ject which attracted, in any considerable degree, the at¬ 
tention of English scholars. From this time, the writings 
of Grotius and Puffendorff began to be generally studied, 
and soon after made their way into the Universities. In 
Scotland, the impression produced by them was more pe¬ 
culiarly remarkable. They were every where adopted as 
the best manuals of ethical and of political instruction that 
could be put into the hands of students; and gradually 
contributed to form that memorable school, from whence 


114 FIRST DISSERTATION. (tab* i. $ 1 

so many philosophers and Philosophical Historians were 
afterwards to proceed. 

From the writings of Hobbes to those of Locke, the 
transition is easy and obvious ; but, before prosecuting 
farther the history of philosophy in England, it will be 
proper to turn oip* attention to its progress abroad, since 
the period at which this section commences . 1 In the first 

1 Through the whole of this Discourse, I have avoided touch¬ 
ing on the discussions which, on various occasions, have arisen 
with regard to the theory of government, and the comparative ad¬ 
vantages or disadvantages of different political forms. Of the 
scope and spirit of these discussions it would be seldom pos¬ 
sible to convey a just idea, without entering into details of a 
local or temporary nature, inconsistent with my general de¬ 
sign. In the present circumstances of the world, besides, the 
theory of government (although, in one point of view r , the 
most important of all studies) seems to possess a very sub¬ 
ordinate interest to inquiries connected with political econo¬ 
my, and with the fundamental principles of legislation. What 
is it, indeed, that renders one form of government more favour-* 
able than another to human happiness, but the superiour securi¬ 
ty it provides for the enactment of wise laws, and for their im¬ 
partial and vigorous execution ? These considerations will suffi¬ 
ciently account for my passing over in silence, not only the 
names of Needham, of Sidney, and of Milton, but that of Har¬ 
rington, whose Oceana is justly regarded as one of the boasts of 
English literature, and is pronounced by Hume to be “ the only 
valuable model of a commonwealth that has yet been offered to 
the puhlick.” (Essays and Treatises, vol. I, Essay xvi.) 

A remark which Hume has elsewhere made on the Oceana # 
appears to me so striking and so instructive, that I shall give it 
a place in this note. “ Harrington,” he observes, “ thought him¬ 
self so sure of his general principle, that the balance of power 
depends on that of property, that he ventured to pronounce it im¬ 
possible ever to reestablish monarchy in England : but his book 
w r as scarcely published when the King was restored ; and we see 
that monarchy has ever since subsisted on the same footing as 
before. So dangerous is it for a politician to venture to foretell 
the situation of publick affairs a few years hence.” Ibid. Essay 
vii. 

How much nearer the truth (even in the science of politicks ) 
is Bacon’s cardinal principle, that knowledge is power!—a princi¬ 
ple, which applies to Man not less in his corporate than in his 


CJttAP. II.| 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


115 


place, however, I shall add a few miscellaneous remarks on 
some important events which occurred in this country dur¬ 
ing the lifetime of Hobbes, and of which his extraordi¬ 
nary longevity prevented me sooner from taking notice. 

Among these events, that which is most immediately con¬ 
nected with our present subject, is the establishment of 
the Royal Society of London in 1662, which was followed a 
few years afterwards by that of the Royal Academy of Sci¬ 
ences at Paris. The professed object of both institutions 
was the improvement of Experimental Knowledge, and of 
the auxiliary science of Mathematicks ; but their influence 
on the general progress of human reason has been far 
greater than could possibly have been foreseen at the 
moment of their foundation. On the happy effects result¬ 
ing from them in this respect, La Place has introduced 
Some just reflections in his System of the World , which, 
as they discover more originality of thought than he com¬ 
monly displays, when he ventures to step beyond the cir¬ 
cumference of his own magick circle, I shall quote, in a 
literal translation of his words. 

• “ The chief advantage of learned societies, is the philo¬ 
sophical spirit to which they may be expected to give 
birth, and which they cannot fail to diffuse over all the va¬ 
rious pursuits of the nations among whom they are estab¬ 
lished. The insulated scholar may without dread aban¬ 
don himself to the spirit of system ; he hears the voice of 
contradiction only from afar. But io a learned society, 
the collision of systematick opinions soon terminates in 
their common destruction; while the desire of mutual con¬ 
viction creates among the members a tacit compact, to 

individual capacity; and which may be safely trusted to as the 
most solid of all foundations for our reasonings concerning the 
future history of the world. 


116 FIRST DISSERTATION. |>aht i. $ i 

admit nothing but the results of observation, or the con¬ 
clusions of mathematical reasoning. Accordingly, expe¬ 
rience has shewn, how much these establishments have 
contributed, since their origin, to the spread of true philo¬ 
sophy. By setting the example of submitting every thing 
to the examination of a severe logick, they have dissipated 
the prejudices which had too long reigned in the sciences; 
and which the strongest minds of the preceding centuries 
had not been able to resist. They have constantly op¬ 
posed to empiricism a mass of knowledge, against which 
the errours adopted by the vulgar, with an enthusiasm 
which, in former times, would have perpetuated their em¬ 
pire, have spent their force in vain. In a word, it has been 
jn their bosoms, that those grand theories have been con¬ 
ceived, which, although far exalted by their generality 
above the reachof the multitude, are for this very reason en¬ 
titled to special encouragement, from their innumerable ap¬ 
plications to the phenomena of nature, and to the practice 
of the arts.” 1 

In confirmation of these judicious remarks, it may be 
farther observed, that nothing could have been more hap¬ 
pily imagined, than the establishment of learned corporations 
for correcting those prejudices which (under the significant 
title of Idola Specus ,) Bacon has described as incident to 
the retired student. While these idols of the den maintain 
their authority, the cultivation of the philosophical spirit 
is impossible; or rather, it is in a renunciation of this ido- 

1 The Royal Society of London, though not incorporated by 
charter till 1662, may he considered as virtually existing, at 
least as far back as 1638, when some of the most eminent of 
the original members began first to hold regular meetings at 
Gresham College, for the purpose of philosophical discussion. 
Even these meetings were but a continuation of those previ¬ 
ously held by the same individuals at the apartments of Dr. 
Wilkins in Oxford. See Sprat’s History of the Royal So¬ 
ciety. 


dlAt. Il.j 


FIRS* blSSERTATION. 


117 


latry that the philosophical spirit essentially consists. It 
was accordingly in this great school of the learned world, 
that the characters of Bacon, Descartes, Leibnitz, and 
Locke were formed ; the four individuals who have contri¬ 
buted the most to diffuse the philosophical spirit over Eu¬ 
rope. The remark applies more peculiarly to Bacon, who 
first pointed out the inconveniences to be apprehended from 
a minute and mechanical subdivision of literary labour; and 
anticipated the advantages to be expected from the in¬ 
stitution of learned academies, in enlarging the field of sci- 
entifick curiosity, and the correspondent grasp of the 
emancipated mind. For accomplishing this object, what 
means so effectual as habits of daily intercourse with men 
whose pursuits are different from our own ; and that expand¬ 
ed knowledge, both of man and of nature, of which such 
an intercourse must necessarily be productive ! 

Another event which operated still more forcibly and 
universally on the intellectual character of our countrymen, 
was the civil war which began in 1640, and which ultimately 
terminated in the usurpation of Cromwell. It is observed 
by Mr. Hume, that “ the prevalence of democratical prin¬ 
ciples, under the Commonwealth, engaged the country gen¬ 
tlemen to bind their sons apprentices to merchants ; and 
that commerce has ever since been more honourable in En¬ 
gland, than in any other European kingdom.” 1 2 “ The 

higher and the lower ranks (as a later writer has remarked) 
were thus brought closer together, and all of them inspired 
with an activity and vigour that, in former ages, had no ex¬ 
ample.” 3 

To this combination of the pursuits of trade with the 
advantages of a liberal education may be ascribed the great 

1 History of England , chap. lxii. 

2 Chalmers’s Political Estimate, &c. (London 1804.) p. 44 

16 


118 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. $ i. 


multitude of ingenious and enlightened speculations on 
commerce, and on the other branches of national indus¬ 
try, which issued from the press, in the short interval be¬ 
tween the Restoration and the Revolution ; an interval dur¬ 
ing which the sudden and immense extension of the trade 
of England, and the corresponding rise of the commercial 
interest, must have presented a spectacle peculiarly calcu¬ 
lated to awaken the curiosity of inquisitive observers. It 
is a very remarkable circumstance with respect to these 
economical researches, which now engage so much of the f 
attention both of statesmen and of philosophers, that they 
are altogether of modern origin. “ There is scarcely 
says Mr. Hume, “ any ancient writer on politicks who ha# 
made mention of trade ; nor was it ever considered as an 
affair of state till the seventeenth century.” 1 ——The work 
of the celebrated John de Wilt, entitled, “The true inter¬ 
est and political maxims of the republick of Holland and 
West Friesland,” is (he earliest publication of any note, 
in which commerce is treated of as an object of national 
and political concern, in opposition to the partial interests 
of corporations and of monopolists. 

Of the English publications to which I have just alluded, 
the greater part consists of anonymous pamphlets, now on¬ 
ly to be met with in the collections of the curious. A few 
bear the names of eminent English merchants. I shall 
have occasion to refer to them more particularly afterwards,- 
when I come to speak of the writings of Smith, Quesnay, 
and Turgot. At present, I shall only observe, that, in 
these fugitive and now neglected tracts, are to be found the 
first rudiments of that science of Political Economy which 
is justly considered as the boast of the present age; and 
which, although the aid of learning and philosophy was 
necessary to rear it to maturity, may be justly said to have 
had its^cradle in the Royal Exchange of London. 


1 Essay on Civil Liberty. 


CHAT. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


119 

Mr. Locke was one of (he first retired theorists (and this 
singular feature in his history has not been sufficiently at¬ 
tended to by his biographers,) who condescended to treat 
of trade as an object of liberal study. Notwithstanding 
the manifold errours into which he fell in the course of his 
reasonings concerning it, it may be fairly questioned, if he 
has any where else given greater proofs, either of the vigour 
or of the^originaiity of his genius. But the name of Locke 
reminds me, that it is now time to interrupt these national 
details ; and to turn our attention to the progress of science 
on the Continent, since the times of Bodinus and of Cam- 
panella. 

SECTION II. 

Progress of Philosophy in France during the Seventeenth Century. 

Montaigne—Charron— La Rochefoucauld. 

At the head of the French writers who contributed, in the 
beginning of the seventeenth century, to turn the thoughts 
of their countrymen to subjects connected with the Philo¬ 
sophy of Mind, Montaigne may, I apprehend, be justly 
placed. Properly speaking, he belongs to a period some¬ 
what earlier ; but his tone of thinking and of writing class¬ 
es him much more naturally with his successors, than with 
any French author who had appeared before him. 1 

In assigning to Montaigne so distinguished a rank in the 
history of modern philosophy, I need scarcely say, that I 
leave entirely out of the account what constitutes (and just¬ 
ly constitutes) to the generality of readers the principal 
charm of his Essays; the good nature, humanity, and un¬ 
affected sensibility, which so irresistably attach us to his 
character,—lending, it must be owned, but too often, a 

1 Montaigne was born in 1533, and died in 1592= 


120 


FIRST DISSERTATION* 


(PAIIT 1. $*I1. 


fascination to his talk , when he cannot be recommended 
as the safest of companions. Nor do I lay much stress on 
the inviting frankness and vivacity with which he unbosoms 
himself about all his doinestick habits and concerns ; and 
which render his book so expressive a portrait, not only of 
the author, but of the Gascon country gentleman, two 
hundred years ago. 1 have in view chiefly the minuteness 
and good faith of his details concerning his own personal 
qualities, both intellectual and moral. The only study 
which seems ever to have engaged his attention was that of 
man ; and for this he was singularly fitted, by a rare com¬ 
bination of that talent for observation which belongs to men 
of the world, with those habits of abstracted reflection, 
which men of the world have commonly so little disposi¬ 
tion to cultivate. “I study myself,” says he, “more than 
any other subject. This is my metaphysick ; this my 
natural philosophy.” 1 He has accordingly produced a 
work, unique in its kind ; valuable, in an eminent degree, as 
an authentick record of many interesting facts relative to 
human nature ; but more valuable by far, as holding up a 
mirror in which every individual, if he does not see his 
own image, will at least occasionally perceive so many traits 
of resemblance to it, as can scarcely fail to invite his curi¬ 
osity to a more careful review of himself. In this respect, 
Montaigne’s writings may be regarded in the light of what 
painters call studies ; in other words, of those slight sketch¬ 
es which were originally designed for the improvement or 
amusement of the artist; but which, on that account, are 
the more likely to be useful in developing the germs of simi¬ 
lar endowments in others. 

Without a union of these two powers (reflection and ob¬ 
servation,) the study of Man can never be successfully 

1 Essays , Book iii, chap, xiii. 


chap, ii.} FIRST DISSERTATION. 1*21 

prosecuted. It is only by retiring within ourselves that we 
can obtain a key A to the characters of others; and it is only 
by observing and comparing the characters of others, that 
we can thoroughly understand and appreciate our own. 

After all, however, it may be fairly questioned, notwith¬ 
standing the scrupulous fidelity with which Montaigne has 
endeavoured to delineate his own portrait, if he has been 
always sufficiently aware of the secret folds and reduplica¬ 
tions of the human heart. That he was by no means ex¬ 
empted from the common delusions of self-love and self-de¬ 
ceit, has been fully evinced in a very acute, though some¬ 
what uncharitable, section of the Port Royal logick ; but 
this consideration, so far from diminishing the value of his 
Essays, is one of the most instructive lessons they afford 
to those who, after the example of the author, may under¬ 
take the salutary but humiliating task of self-examination. 

As Montaigne’s scientifick knowledge was, according to 
his own account, “ very vague and imperfect 1 and his 
book learning rather sententious and gossipping, than com¬ 
prehensive and systematical, it would be unreasonable to 
expect, in his philosophical arguments, much either of 
depth or of solidity . 2 The sentiments he hazards are to be 
regarded but as the impressions of the moment; consist¬ 
ing chiefly of the more obvious doubts and difficulties 

1 Book i, chap. xxv. 

2 Montaigne’s education, however, had not been neglected by 
his father. On the contrary, he tells us himself, that “ George 
Buchanan, the great poet of Scotland, and Marcus Antonius 
Muretus, the best orator of his time, were among the number of 
his domestick preceptors.”—“ Buchanan,” he adds, “ when I saw 
him afterwards in the retinue of the late Mareschal de Brissac, 
told me, that he was about to write a treatise on the education of 
children, and that he would take the model of it from mine.” 
Boo|t i, chap. xxv. 


122 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. $ n. 


wbi,ch, on all metaphysical and moral questions, are apt to 
present themselves to a speculative mind, when it first at¬ 
tempts to dig below the surface of common opinions. 
In reading Montaigne, accordingly, what chiefly strikes us, 
is not the novelty or the refinement of his ideas, but the 
liveliness and felicity with w hich we see embodied in words 
the previous wanderings of our own imaginations. It is 
probably owing to this circumstance, rather than to any 
direct plagiarism, that his Essays appear to contain the 
germs of so many of the paradoxical theories which, in la¬ 
ter times, IJelvetius and others have laboured to systema¬ 
tise and to support with the parade of Metaphysical discus¬ 
sion. In the mind of Montaigne, the same paradoxes may 
be easily traced to those deceitful appearances which, in 
order to stimulate our faculties to their best exertions, na¬ 
ture seems purposely to have thrown in our way, as stum¬ 
bling blocks in the pursuit of truth ; and it is only to be 
regretted on such occasions, for the sake of his own happi¬ 
ness, that his genius and temper qualified and disposed him 
more to start the problem than to investigate the solu¬ 
tion. 

When Montaigne touches on religion, he is, in general, 
less pleasing than on other subjects. His constitutional 
temper, it is probable, predisposed him to skepticism ; but 
this original bias could not fail to be mightily strengthened 
by the disputes, both religious and political, which, during 
his lifetime, convulsed Europe, and more particularly his 
own country. On a mind like his it may be safely presum¬ 
ed, that the writings of the reformers, and the instructions 
of Buchanan, were not altogelher without effect ; and hence, 
in all probability, the perpetual struggle, which he is at no 
pains to conceal, between the creed of his infancy, and the 
lights of his mature understanding. He speaks, indeed, of 
u reposing tranquilly on the pillow of doubt;” but this 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


123 


language is neither reconcilable with the general complexion 
of his works, nor with the most authentick accounts we 
have received of his dying moments. If is a maxim of his 
own, that, “ in forming a judgment of a man’s life, particu¬ 
lar regard should be paid to his behavic u; at tbe end of it 
to which he pathetically adds, “ that the chief study of his 
own life was, that his latter end might be decent, calm, and 
silent.” The fact is (if we may credit the testimony of 
his biographers,) that, in his declining years, he exchanged 
his boasted pillow of doubt for the more powerful opiates 
prescribed by the infallible church ; and that he expired 
in performing, what his old preceptor Buchanan would not 
have scrupled to describe as an act of idolatry . 1 

The skepticism of Montaigne seems to have been of a 
very peculiar cast, and to have had little in common with 
that either of Bayle or of Hume. The great aim of the 
two latter writers evidently was, by exposing the uncertain¬ 
ty of our reasonings whenever we pass the limit of sensi¬ 
ble objects, to inspire their readers with a complete distrust 
of the human faculties on all moral and metaphysical topicks. 
Montaigne, on the other hand, never thinks of forming a 
sect; but, yielding passively to the current of hjs reflec¬ 
tions and feelings, argues, at different times, according to 
the varying state of his impressions and temper, on oppo¬ 
site sides of the same question. On all occasions, he pre¬ 
serves an air of the most perfect sincerity ; and it was to 
this, I presume, much more than to the superiority of his 
reasoning powers, that Montesquieu alluded, when he said, 
“ In the greater part of authors I see the writer ; in Mon- 

■ “ Sentant sa fin approcher, il fit dire la messe dans sa cham- 
bre. A felevation de I’hostie, il se leva sur son lit pour fadorer; 
mais une foildesse l’enleva dansce moment meme, le 15 Septem- 
bre 1592, a 60 ans.” Nouveau Diet . Histor. a Lyon, 1804. Art. 
Montaigne. 


124 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. 5 II, 


laigne I see nothing but the thinker The radical fault of 
his understanding consisted in an incapacity of forming, on 
disputable points, those decided and fixed opinions which can 
alone impart either force or consistency to intellectual cha¬ 
racter. For remedying this weakness, the religious contro¬ 
versies, and the civil wars recently engendered by the Re¬ 
formation, were but ill calculated. The minds of the most 
serious men, all over Christendom, must have been then un¬ 
settled in an extraordinary degree ; and where any predis¬ 
position to skepticism existed, every external circumstance 
must have conspired to cherish and confirm it. Of the 
extent to which it was carried, about the same period, in 
England, some judgment may be formed from the following 
description of a Skeptick, by a writer not many years pos¬ 
terior to Montaigne. 

“ A skeptick in religion is one that hangs in the balance 
with all sorts of opinions ; whereof not one but stirs him, 
and none sways him. A man guiltier of credulity than he 
is taken to be ; for it is out of his belief of every thing that 
he believes nothing. Each religion scares him from its con¬ 
trary, none persuades him to itself. He would be wholly a 
Christian, but that he is something of an Atheist; and whol¬ 
ly an Atheist, but that he is partly a Christian; and a per¬ 
fect Heretick, but that there are so many to distract him. 
He finds reason in all opinions, truth in none; indeed, the 
least reason perplexes him, and the best will not satisfy him. 
He finds doubts and scruples better than resolves them, 
and is always too hard for himself.” 1 If this portrait bad 
been presented to Montaigne, I have little doubt that he 

1 Micro-cosmography , or a Piece of the World Discovered, in 
Essays and Characters. For a short notice of the author of this 
very curious book (Bishop Earle,) see Letters from the Bodleian 
Library, vol. I, p. 141. I understand it has been lately reprint¬ 
ed in London, but have only seen one of the old editions (the 
seventh,) printed in 1638. The chapter from which I have tran¬ 
scribed the above passage is entitled A skeptick in Religion ; and 


CB.it*. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION* 


125 


would have had the candour to acknowledge, that he recog¬ 
nized in it some of the most prominent and characteristical 
features of his own mind . 1 

The most elaborate, and seemingly the most serious, of 
all Montaigne’s essays, is his long and somewhat tedious 
Apology for Raimond de Sebonde , contained in the 
twelfth chapter of his second book. This author appears, 
from Montaigne’s account, to have been a Spaniard, who 
professed physick at Thoulouse, towards the'end of the 
fourteenth century ; and who published a treatise, entitled 
Theologia Naturalis , which was put into the hands of 
Montaigne’s father by a friend, as a useful antidote against 
the innovations with which Luther was then beginning to 
disturb the ancient faith. That, in this particular instance, 
the book answered the intended purpose, may be presumed 
from the request of old Montaigne to his son, a few days 
before his death, to translate it into French from the Span¬ 
ish original. His request was accordingly complied with ; 
and the translation is referred to by Montaigne in the first 
edition of his Essays , printed at Bourdeaux in 1580 ; but 
the execution of this filial duty seems to have produced on 
Montaigne’s own mind very different effects from what his 
father had anticipated . 2 

it has plainly suggested to Lord Clarendon some of the ideas; 
and even expressions, which occur in his account of Chilling- 
worth. 

1 “ The writings of the best authors among the ancients,” Mon¬ 
taigne tells us on one occasion, “ being full an<J solid, tempt and 
carry me which way almost they will. He that I am reading 
seems always to have the most force; and I find that every one 
in turn has reason, though they contradict one another.” Book 
ii. chap. xii. 

2 The very few particulars known with respect to Sebonde 
have been collected by Bayle. See his Dictionary , Art. Sebon¬ 
de. 


1 7 


126 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. $ li 


The principal aim of Sebonde’s book, according to Mon¬ 
taigne, is to show that “ Christians are in the wrong to make 
human reasoning the basis of their belief, since the object 
of it is only conceived by faith, and by a special inspira¬ 
tion of the divine grace.” To this doctrine Montaigne pro¬ 
fesses to yield an implicit assent ; and, under the shelter of 
it, contrives to give free vent to all the extravagancies of 
skepticism. The essential distinction between the reason 
of man, and the instincts of the lower animals, is at great 
length, and with no inconsiderable ingenuity, disputed ; the 
powers of the human understanding, in all inquiries, whether 
physical or moral, are held up to ridicule ; an universal 
Pyrrhonism is recommended ; and we are again and again 
reminded, that “ the senses are the beginning and the end of 
all our knowledge .” Whoever has the patience to peruse 
this chapter with attention, will be surprised to find in it the 
rudiments of a great part of the licentious philosophy of the 
eighteenth century ; nor can he fail to remark the address 
with which the author avails himself of the language after¬ 
wards adopted by Bayle, Helvetius, and Hume :—“ That, 
to be a philosophical skeptick, is the first step towards be¬ 
coming a sound believing Christian.” 1 It is a melancholy fact 
in ecclesiastical history, that this insidious maxim should 
have been sanctioned, in our times, by some theologians of no 
common pretensions to orthodoxy ; who, in direct contradic¬ 
tion to the words of Scripture, have ventured to assert, that 
“ he who comes to God must first believe that he is not.” Is 
it necessary to remind these grave retailers of Bayle’s sly 
and ironical sophistry, that every argument for Christianity, 
drawn from its internal evidence, tacitly recognizes the 

1 This expression is Mr. Hume’s ; but the same proposition, in 
substance, is frequently repeated by the two other writers, and is 
very fully enlarged upon by Bayle in the Illustration upon the 
Skcpticksj annexed to his Dictionary. 


HAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION, 


127 


authority of human reason ; and assumes, as the ultimate 
criteria ot truth and of falsehood, of right and of wrong, 
certain fundamental articles of belief, discoverable by the 
light of Nature ? • 

Charron is well known as the chosen friend of Montaigne’s 
latter years, and as the confidential depositary of his phi¬ 
losophical sentiments. Endowed with talents far inferiour 
in force and originality to those of his master, he possess¬ 
ed, nevertheless, a much sounder and more regulated judg¬ 
ment ; and as his reputation, notwithstanding the liberality 
of some of his peculiar tenets, was high among the most re¬ 
spectable and conscientious divines of his own church, it 
is far from improbable, that Montaigne committed to him 
the guardianship of his posthumous fame, from motives si¬ 
milar to those which influenced Pope, in selecting Warbur- 

1 “ I once asked Adrian Tumebus says Montaigne, “ what he 
thought ot Sebonde’s treatise ? The answer he made to me was, 
That he believed it to be some extract from Thomas Aquinas , 
for that none but a genius like his was capable of such ideas.” 

I must not, however, omit to mention, that a very learned Pro- 
testant, Hugo Grotius , has expressed himself to his friend Bignon 
not unfavourably of Sebonde’s intentions, although the terms in 
vyhich he speaks of him are somewhat equivocal, and imply but 
little satisfaction with the execution of his design. “ Non igno- 
ras quantum excoluerint istam materiam ( argumenlutn soil, pro 
Religionc Christiana) philosophica subtilitatc Raimundus Sebundus, 
dialogorum varietate Ludovicus Vives, maxima autem turn erudi- 
tione turn tacundia vestras Philippus Mornaeus.” The authors 
of the Nouveau Dictionnaire Historique ( Lyons, 1804) have enter¬ 
ed much more completely into the spirit and drift of Seboude’s 
reasoning, when they observe, “ Ce livre offre des singularity har¬ 
dies, qui plurent dans le temps aux philosophes de ce siecle, et 
qui ne d&plairoient pas cL ccux du noire? 

It is proper to add, that I am acquainted with Sebonde only 
through the medium of Montaigne’s version, which does not lay 
claim to the merit of strict fidelity; the translator himself having 
acknowledged, that he had given to the Spanish philosopher “ un 
accoutrement a la Francoise, et qu’il Pa devetu de son port fa¬ 
rouche et maintien barbaresque, de maniere qu’il a mes-hui assez 
de facon pour se presenter en toute bonne eompagnie.” 


128 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. $ II. 


ton as his literary executor. The discharge of this trust, 
however, seems to have done less good to Montaigne than 
harm to Charron; for, while the unlimited skepticism, and 
the indecent levities of the former, were viewed by the zea* 
Jots of those days with a smile of tenderness and indulgence, 
the slighter heresies of the latter were marked with a seve¬ 
rity the more rigorous and unrelenting, that, in points of 
essential importance, they deviated so very little from the 
standard of the Catholick faith. It is not easy to guess 
the motives of this inconsistency ; but such we find from 
the fact to have been the temper of religious bigotry, or, 
to speak more correctly, of political religionism, in all ages 
of the world. 1 II 

As an example of Charron’s solicitude to provide an anti¬ 
dote against the more pernicious errours of his friend, I 
shall only mention his ingenious and philosophical attempt 
to reconcile, with the moral constitution of human nature, 
the apparent discordancy in the judgments of different na¬ 
tions concerning right and wrong. His argument on this 
point is in substance the very same with that so well urged 
by Beattie, in opposition to Locke’s reasonings against the 
existence of innate practical principles. It is difficult to 
say, whether, in this instance, the coincidence between 

1 Montaigne, cet auteur eharmant, 

Tour a-tour profond et frivole, 

Dans son chateau paisiblement, 

Loin de tout frondeur malevole 
Doutoit de tout impunement, 

Et se moquoit tres librement 
Des bavards fourres de l’ecole. 

- Mais quand son eleve Charron, 

Plus retenu, plus methodique, 

De sagesse donna lecon, 

II fut pres de perir, dit on, 

Par la haine theologique. 

Voltaire, Epilrc an President Hhiault. 


CJflAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


129 


Montaigne and Locke, or that between Charron and Beattie, 
be the more remarkable.' 

Although Charron has affected to give to his work a 
systematical form, by dividing and subdiv iding it into books 
and chapters, it is in reality little more than an unconnect¬ 
ed series of essays on various topicks, more or less distant¬ 
ly related to the science of Ethicks. On the powers of 
the understanding he has touched but slightly ; nor has he 
imitated Montaigne, in anatomizing, for the edification of 
the world, the peculiarities of his own moral character. 
It has probably been owing to the desultory and popular 
style of composition common to both, that so little attention 
has been paid to either by those who have treated of the 
history of French philosophy. To Montaigne’s merits, 
indeed, as a lively and amusing essayist, ample justice has 
been done; but his influence on the subsequent habits of 
thinking among his countrymen remains still to be illustrat¬ 
ed. He has done more, perhaps, than any other author 
(I am inclined to think with the most hone'st intentions,) 
to introduce into mens' houses (if I may borrow an expres¬ 
sion of Cicero) what is now called the new philosophy ,—a 
philosophy certainly very different from that of Socrates. 
In the fashionable world, he has, for more than two cen¬ 
turies, maintained his place as the first of moralists ; a cir¬ 
cumstance easily accounted for, when we attend to the 
singular combination, exhibited in his writings, of a sem¬ 
blance of erudition, with what Malebranche happily calls 
his air du monde , and air cavalier. 2 As for the graver 

1 See Beattie’s Essay on Fable and Romance ; and Charron de 
la Sagcsse , Liv. ii. c. 8. It may amuse the curious reader also 
to compare the theoretical reasonings of Charron with a Memoir 
in the Phil. Trans, for 1773 (by Sir Roger Curtis,) containing 
some particulars with respect to the country of Labradore. 

2 “ Ah Paimable homme, qu'il est de bonne compagnie! C’est 
mon ancien ami; mai3, a force d’etre ancien, il m’est nouveau.” 
Madame de Sevigne. 


130 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. § u. 


and less attractive Charron, his name would probably be¬ 
fore now have sunk into oblivion, had it not been so closely 
associated, by the accidental events of his life, with the 
more celebrated name of Montaigne. 1 

The preceding remarks lead me, by a natural connex¬ 
ion of ideas (to which I am here much more inclined to 
attend than to the order of dates,) to another writer of the 
seventeenth century, whose influence over the literary and 
philosophical taste of France has been far greater than 
seems to be commonly imagined. I allude to the Duke 
of La Rochefoucauld, author of the Maxims and Moral 
Reflections. 

Voltaire, was, I believe, the first who ventured to assign 
to La Rochefoucauld the preeminent rank which belongs 
to him among the French classicks. “ One of the works,” 
says he, “ which contributed most to form the taste of the 
nation to a justness and precision of thought and expres¬ 
sion, was the small collection of maxims by Francis Duke 
of La Rochefoucauld. Although there be little more than 

1 Montaigne himself seems, from the general strain of his 
writings, to have had but little expectation of the posthumous fame 
which he has so long continued to enjoy. One of his reflections 
on this head is so characteristical of the author as a man ; and, 
at the same time, affords so fine a specimen of the graphical 
powers of his now antiquated style, that I am tempted to trans¬ 
cribe it in his own words: “ J’ecris raon livre a peu d’hommes 
et a peu d’annees; s’il c’eut ete une matiere de duree, il l’eut 
fallu commettre a un Iangage plus ferme. Selon la variation 
contiuuelle qui a suivi le notre jusqu’a cette heure, qui peut 
esperer que sa forme presente soit en usage d’ici a cinquante 
ans ? il ecoule tous les jours de nos mains, et depuis que je vis, 
s’est altere de moitie. Nous disons qu’il est a cette heure par- 
fait: Autant en dit du sien chaque siecle. Cest aux bons et utiles 
ecrits de le clouer & eux, et ira sa fortune selon le credit de notre 
etat. n 

How completely have both the predictions in the last sentence 
been verified by the subsequent history of the French lan¬ 
guage ! 


CHAT. II.} FIRST DISSERTATION. 131 

one idea in the book, that self-love is the spring of all our 
actions, yet this idea is presented in so great a variety of 
forms, as to be always amusing. When it first appeared, 
it was read with avidity ; and it contributed, more than any 
other performance since the revival of letters, to improve 
the vivacity, correctness, and delicacy of French compo¬ 
sition.” 

Another very eminent judge of literary merit (the late 
Dr Johnson) was accustomed to say of La Rochefoucauld’s 
Maxims , that it was almost the only book written by a 
man of fashion, of which professed authors had reason to 
be jealous. Nor is this wonderful, when we consider the 
unwearied industry of the very accomplished writer, in 
giving to every part of it the highest and most finished 
polish which his exquisite taste could bestow. When he 
had committed a maxim to paper, he was in use to circu¬ 
late it among his friends, that he might avail himself of 
their critical animadversions; and, if we may credit Se- 
grais, altered some of them no less than thirty times, be¬ 
fore venturing to submit them to the publick eye. 

That the tendency of these maxims is, upon the whole, 
unfavourable to morality, and that they always leave a 
disagreeable impression on the mind, must, I think, be 
granted. At the same time, it may be fairly questioned, 
if the motives of the author have in general been well un¬ 
derstood, either by his admirers or his opponents. In 
affirming that self-love is the spring of all our actions, 
there is no good reason for supposing that he meant to deny 
the reality of moral distinctions as a philosophical truth;— 
a supposition quite inconsistent with his own fine and deep 
remark, that hypocrisy is itself an homage which vice ren¬ 
ders to virtue. He states it merely as a fact, which, in 
the course of his experience as a man of the world, he had 
found very generally verified in the higher classes of 


132 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[paht i. $ ii. 


society; and which he was induced to announce without 
any qualification or restriction, in order to give more force 
and poignancy to his satire. In adopting this mode of 
writing, he has unconsciously conformed himself, like many 
other French authors, who have since followed his exam¬ 
ple, to a suggestion which Aristotle has stated with admi¬ 
rable depth and acuteness in his Rhetorick. “ Sentences 

or apopthegms lend much aid to eloquence. One reason 

of this is, that they flatter the pride of the hearers, who 
are delighted when the speaker, making use of general 
language, touches upon opinions which they had before 
known to be true in part. Thus, a person who had the 
misfortune to live in a bad neighbourhood, or to have worth¬ 
less children, would easily assent to the speaker who 
should affirm, that nothing is more vexatious than to have 
any neighbours ; nothing more irrational than to bring 
children into the world.” 1 This observation of Aristotle, 
while it goes far to account for the imposing and dazzling 
effect of these rhetorical exaggerations, ought to guard us 
against the common and popular errour of mistaking them 
for the serious and profound generalizations of science. 
As for La Rochefoucauld, we know, from the best authori¬ 
ties, that, in private life, he was a conspicuous example of 
all those moral qualities of which he seemed to deny the ex¬ 
istence; and that he exhibited, in this respect, a striking 

1 2s yvuuxt) tig nvg Xoyovg fiovdetxv fxsyuMv /xtxf /xsv 

2ix ot>)tx ruv xK^oxra>' %xi(>ov<Tt yx %, txv rig xxQohov Mycov t 

t7TlTV%1l TUV 2o%u»/ f U tKSUOl XXTX /XSgOg i%0VC7lV. -*H fXSV yXQ yvco/xi)) 

aJs-reg iif>V)TXi, kxQoXov xro^pxvrig vrrr %xigov<rt 2s xxdoXov tey» <*evov r 
o k?,tx /xs(> g 7r^ov7roXxu3xvovng rvy^xiov7iv oiov , ting yurocri rvy$ 
xiy'^Yi/xivog n r sk oig XxvK oig, xvro2i\xir xv rov U7rovrog t ov2tv ysirovixg 
%X Xi7TUTi^0V i)f OTl 0v2sv YlXtdlUTi^OV TiXV07Toiag. Arist. RilCt. LlD. 
ii. c. x!i. 

The whole chapter is interesting and instructive, and shews 
how profoundly Aristotle had meditated the principles of the 
rhetorical art. 


CHIP. II.J 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


133 


contrast to the Cardinal de Retz, who has presumed to 
censure him for his want of faith in the reality of virtue. 

In reading La Rochefoucauld, it should never be for¬ 
gotten, that it was within the vortex of a court he enjoyed 
his chief opportunities of studying the world ; and that 
the narrow and exclusive circle in which he moved was 
not likely to afford him the most favourable specimens of 
human nature in general. Of the Court of Lewis XIV, 
in particular, we are told by a very nice and reflecting 
observer (Madame de la Fayette,) that “ ambition and 
gallantry were the soul , actuating alike both men and 
women. So many contending interests, so many different 
cabals were constantly at work, and in all of these, women 
bore so important a part, that love was always mingled 
with business, and business with love. Nobody was tran¬ 
quil or indifferent. Every one studied to advance him¬ 
self by pleasing, serving, or ruining others. Idleness and 
languor were unknown, and nothing was thought of but in¬ 
trigues or pleasures.” 

In the passage already quoted from Voltaire, he takes 
notice of the effect of La Rochefoucauld’s maxims, in 
improving the style of French composition. We may add 
to this remark, that their effect has not been less sensible 
in vitiating the tone and character of French philosophy, 
by bringing into vogue those false and degrading represen¬ 
tations of human nature and of human life, which have 
prevailed in that country, more or less, for a century past. 
Mr. Addison, in one of the papers of the Tatler , expresses 
his indignation at this general bias among the French wri¬ 
ters of his age. “ It is impossible,” he observes, “ to 
read a passage in Plato or Tully, and a thousand other 
ancient moralists, without being a greater and better man 
for it. On the contrary, I could never read any of our 
modish French authors, or those of our own country, who 

IB 


134 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[PART I. § IK. 


are the imitators and admirers of that nation, without being, 
for some time, out of humour with myself, and at every 
thing about me. Their business is to depreciate human 
nature, and to consider it under the worst appearances ; 
they give mean interpretations, and base motives to the 
worthiest actions. In short, they endeavour to make no 
distinction between man and man, or between the species 
of man and that of the brutes.”' 

It is very remarkable, that the censure here bestowed 
by Addison on the fashionable French wits of his time, 
should be so strictly applicable to Helvetius, and to many 
other of the most admired authors whom France has pro¬ 
duced in our own day. It is still more remarkable to find 
the same depressing spirit shedding its malignant influence 
on French literature, as early as the time of La Roche¬ 
foucauld, and even of Montaigne ; and to observe how 
very little has been done by the successors of these old 
writers, but to expand into grave philosophical systems 
their loose and lively paradoxes ;—disguising and fortify¬ 
ing them by the aid of those logical principles, to which 
the name and authority of Locke have given so wide a 
circulation in Europe. 

In tracing the origin of that false philosophy on which 
the excesses of the French revolutionists have entailed 
such merited disgrace, it is usual to remount no higher 
than to the profligate period of the Regency ; but the 
seeds of its most exceptionable doctrines had been sown in 
that country at an earlier era, and were indebted for the 
luxuriancy of their harvest, much more to toe political 
and religious soil where they struck their roots, than to the 

1 Toiler , No. 103. The last paper of the Tatler was publish¬ 
ed in 1711 ; and, consequently, the above passage must be un¬ 
derstood as referring to the modish tone of French philosophy, 
prior to the death of Louis XIV. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


135 


skill or foresight of the individuals by whose hands they^ 
were scattered. 

I have united the names of Montaigne and of La Roche¬ 
foucauld, because I consider their writings as rather ad¬ 
dressed to the world at large, than to the small and select 
class of speculative students. Neither of them can be 
said to have enriched the stock of human knowledge by 
the addition of any one important general conclusion ; but 
the maxims of both have operated very extensively and 
powerfully on the taste and principles of the higher orders 
all over Europe, and predisposed them to give a welcome 
reception to the same ideas, when afterwards reproduced 
with the imposing appendages of logical method, and of a 
technical phraseology. The foregoing reflections, there¬ 
fore, are not so foreign as might at first be apprehended, to 
the subsequent history of ethical and of metaphysical 
speculation. It is time, however, now to turn our attention 
to a subject far more intimately connected with the gene¬ 
ral progress of human reason,—the philosophy of Des¬ 
cartes. 

Descartes—Gassendi—Malebranche. 

According to a late writer,' whose literary decisions 
(excepting where he touches on religion or politicks) are 
justly entitled to the highest deference, Descartes has a 
better claim than any other individual, to be regarded as 
the father of that spirit of free inquiry, which, in modern 
Europe, has so remarkably displayed itself in all the vari¬ 
ous departments of knowledge. Of Bacon, he observes, 
“ that though he possessed, in a most eminent degree, the 
genius of philosophy, he did not unite with it the genius of 


1 jCondorcet. 


136 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. $ 11. 


the sciences ; and that the methods proposed by him for 
the investigation of truth, consisting entirely of precepts 
which he was unable to exemplify, had little or no effect in 
accelerating the rate of discovery.” As for Galileo, he 
remarks, on the other hand, “ that his exclusive taste for 
mathematical and physical researches, disqualified him for 
communicating to the general mind that impulse of which 
it stood in need.” 

“ This honour,” he adds, u was reserved for Descartes, 
who combined in himself the characteristical endowments 
of both his predecessors. If, in the physical sciences, his 
march be less sure than that of Galileo—if his logick be 
less cautious than that of Bacon—yet the very temerity of 
his errours was instrumental to the progress of the human 
race. He gave activity to minds which the circumspec¬ 
tion of his rivals could not awake from their lethargy. He 
called upon men to throw off the yoke of authority, ac¬ 
knowledging no influence but what reason should avow : 
and his call was obeyed by a multitude of followers, en¬ 
couraged by the boldness, and fascinated by the enthusiasm 
of their leader.” 

In these observations, the ingenious author has rashly 
generalized a conclusion deduced from the literary history 
of his own country. That the works of Bacon were but 
little read there till after the publication of D’Alembert’s 
Preliminary Discourse, is, I believe, an unquestionable 
fact not that it necessarily follows from this, that, even 
in France, no previous effect had been produced by the 
labours of Boyle, of Newton, and of the other English ex- 

1 One reason for this is well pointed out by D’Alembert. 
€t II n’y a que les chefs de secte en tout genre, dont les ouvrages 
puissent avoir un certain eclat; Bacon u’a pas ete du nombre, et 
la forme de sa philosophic s’y opposoit: elle etoit trop sage pour 
etonner personne.” Disc. Prel 


II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


137 


perimentalists, trained in Bacon’s school. With respect to 
England, it is a fact not less certain, that al no period did 
the philosophy of Descartes produce such an impression on 
publick opinion, either in Physicks or in Elhicks, as to 
give the slightest colour to the supposition, that it con¬ 
tributed, in the most distant degree, to the subsequent ad¬ 
vances made by our countrymen in these sciences. In 
Logick and Metaphysicks, indeed, the case was different. 
Here the writings of Descartes did much; and if they had 
been studied with proper attention, they might have done 
much more. But of this part of their merits, Condorcet 
seems to have had no idea. His eulogy, therefore, is 
rather misplaced than excessive. He has extolled Des¬ 
cartes as the father of Experimental Physicks : he would 
have been nearer the truth, if he had pointed him out as 
the father of the Experimental Philosophy of the Human 
Mind. 

In bestowing this title on Descartes, I am far from being 
inclined to compare him, in the number or importance of 
the facts which he has remarked concerning our intellectual 
powers, to various other writers of an earlier date. I al¬ 
lude merely to his clear and precise conception of that 
operation of the understanding (distinguished afterwards in 
Locke’s Essay by the name of Reflection ,) through the 
medium of which all our knowledge of Mind is exclusively 
to be obtained. Of the essential subserviency of this 
power to every satisfactory conclusion that can be formed 
with respect to the mental phenomena, and of the futility 
of every theory which would attempt to explain them by 
metaphors borrowed from the material world, no other 
philosopher prior to Locke seems to have been fully aware; 
and from the moment that these truths were recognized as 
logical principles in the study of mind , a new era commen¬ 
ces in the history of that branch of science. It will be 


138 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. $ II. 


necessary, therefore, to allot to the illustration of this part 
of the Cartesian philosophy a larger space, than the limits 
of my undertaking will permit me to afford lo the re¬ 
searches of some succeeding inquirers, who may, at first 
sight, appear more worthy of attention in the present 
times. 

It has been repeatedly asserted by the Materialists of 
the last century, that Descartes was the first Metaphy¬ 
sician by whom the pure immateriality of the human soul 
was taught; and that the ancient philosophers, as well as 
the schoolmen, went no farther than to consider mind as 
the result of a material organization, in which the consti¬ 
tuent elements approached to evanescence, in point of 
subtilty. Both of these propositions I conceive to be to¬ 
tally unfounded. That many of the schoolmen, and that 
the wisest of the ancient philosophers, when they de¬ 
scribed! the mind as a spirit , or as a spark of celestial fire, 
employed these expressions not with any intention to 
materialize its essence, but merely from want of more un¬ 
exceptionable language, might be shewn with demonstrative 
evidence, if this were the proper place for entering into the 
discussion. But what is of more importance to be attend¬ 
ed to, on the present occasion, is the effect of Descartes* 
writings in disentangling the logical principle above men¬ 
tioned, from the scholastick question about the nature of 
mind , as contradistinguished from matter . It were indeed 
to be wished, that he had perceived still more clearly and 
steadily the essential importance of keeping this distinction 
constantly in view; but he had at least the merit of illus¬ 
trating, by his own example, in a far greater degree than 
any of his predecessors, the possibility of studying the 
mental phenomena, without reference to any facts but 
those which rest on the evidence of consciousness. The 
metaphysical question about the nature of mind he seems 


GHAF. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


139 


to have considered as a problem, the solution of which was 
an easy corollary from these facts , if distinctly apprehend¬ 
ed ; but still as a problem, whereof it was possible that 
different views ini^lit be taken by those who agreed in 
opinion, as far as facts alone were concerned. Of this a 
very remarkable example has since occurred in the case of 
Mr. Locke, who, although he has been at great pains to 
shew, that the power of reflection bears the same relation 
to the study of the mental phenomena, which the power of 
observation bears to the study of the material world, ap¬ 
pears, nevertheless, to have been far less decided than 
Descartes with respect to the essential distinction between 
Mind and Matter; and has even gone so far as to hazard 
the unguarded proposition, that there is no absurdity in 
supposing the Deity to have superadded to the other quali¬ 
ties of matter the power of thinking. His skepticism, 
however, on this point, did not prevent his good sense from 
perceiving, with the most complete conviction, the indis¬ 
pensable necessity of abstracting from the analogy of mat¬ 
ter, in studying the laws of our intellectual frame. 

The question about the nature or essence of the soul, 
has been, in all ages, a favourite subject of discussion 
among Metaphysicians, from its supposed connexion with 
the argument in proof of its immortality. In this light it 
has plainly been considered by both parties in the dispute; 
the one conceiving, that if Mind could be shewn to have no 
quality in common with Matter, its dissolution was phy¬ 
sically impossible ; the other, that if this assumption could 
be disproved, it would necessarily follow, that the whole 
man must perish at death. For the last of these opinions 
Dr. Priestley and many other speculative theologians have 
of late very zealously contended; battering themselves, no 
doubt, with the idea, that they were thus preparing a tri¬ 
umph for their own peculiar schemes of Christianity.— 


140 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[PAIIT I. # li. 


Neglecting, accordingly, all Ihe presumptions for a future 
stale, afforded by a comparison of the course of human 
affairs with the moral judgments and moral feelings of the 
human heart; and overlooking, with the same disdain, the 
presumptions arising from the narrow sphere of human 
knowledge, when compared with the indefinite improve¬ 
ment of which our intellectual powers seern to be suscepti¬ 
ble ; this acute but superficial writer attached himself 
exclusively to the old and hackneyed pneumatological ar¬ 
gument; tacitly assuming as a principle, that the future 
prospects of man depend entirely on the determination of a 
physical problem, analogous to that which w r as then divid¬ 
ing chemists about the existence or non-existence of 
Phlogiston. In the actual state of science, these specula¬ 
tions might well have been spared. Where is the sober 
metaphysician to be found, who now speaks of the immor¬ 
tality of the soul as a logical consequence of its immateriali¬ 
ty ; instead of considering it as depending on the will of 
that Being by whom it was at first called into existence ? 
And, on the other hand, is it not universally admitted by 
the best philosophers, that whatever hopes the light of 
nature encourages beyond the present scene, rest solely 
(like all our other anticipations of future events) on the 
general tenor and analogy of the laws by which we perceive 
the universe to be governed ? The proper use of the ar¬ 
gument concerning the immateriality of mind , is not to 
establish any positive conclusion as to its destiny hereaf¬ 
ter ; but to repel the reasonings alleged by materialists, as 
proofs that its annihilation must be the obvious and neces¬ 
sary effect of the dissolution of the body. 1 

1 “ We shall here be content,” says the learned John Smith 
of Cambridge, “ with that sober thesis of Plato, in his Timacus , 
who attributes the perpetuation of all substances to the benigni¬ 
ty and liberality of the Creator; whom he therefore brings in 


SiHIP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


141 


I (bought it proper to state this consideration pretty ful¬ 
ly, lest it should be supposed that the logical method re¬ 
commended by Descartes for studying the phenomena of 
mind, has any necessary dependence on his metaphysical 
opinion concerning its being and properties, as a separate 
substance. 1 Between these two parts of his system, how¬ 
ever, there is, if not a demonstrative connexion, at least 
a natural and manifest affinity ; inasmuch as a steady ad¬ 
herence to his logical method (or, in other words, the ha¬ 
bitual exercise of patient reflection ,) by accustoming us to 
break asunder the obstinate associations to which material¬ 
ism is indebted for the early hold it is apt to take of the 
fancy, gradually and insensibly predisposes us in favour 
of his metaphysical conclusion. It is to be regretted, 
that in stating this conclusion, his commentators should so 
frequently make use of the word spirituality ; for which 
ldo not recollect that his own works afford any authority. 

thus speaking, vuu$ ovk i an etOtzvctrcc ov$z et\vroi y &c. You are 
not of yourselves immortal nor indissoluble , but would relapse and 
slid ? back from that being which I have given you , should I with¬ 
draw the influence of my own power from you ; but yet you shall 
hold your immortality by a patent from myself .” (Select Discours - 

es , Cambridge, 16t>0.) I quote this passage from one of the 
oldest partizans of Descartes among the English philosophers. 

Descartes himself is said to have been of a different opinion. 
“ On a ete etonne,” says Thomas, “ que dans ses Meditations Mt- 
taphysiques , Descartes n’ait point parle de f immortalite de fame. 
M;iis il nous apprend lui-meme par une de ses lettres, qu’ayant 
elabli clairement, dans cet ouvrage, la distinction de fame et de 
la matiere, il suivoit necessairement de cette distinction, que 
fame par sa nature ne pouvoit perir avec le corps.” Eloge de 
Descartes. Note 21. 

I I employ the scholastick word substance , in conformity to the 
phraseology of Descartes, but I am fully aware of the strong ob¬ 
jections to which it is liable, not only as a wide deviation from 
popular use, which has appropriated it to things material and 
tangible, but as implying a greater degree of positive knowledge 
concerning the nature of mind, than our faculties >are fitted to 
attain.—For some farther remarks on this point, see Note I. 

19 




142 FIRST DISSERTATION. [pari i. § H. 

The proper expression is immateriality , conveying merely 
a negative idea ; and, of consequence, implying nothing 
more than a rejection of that hypothesis concerning the 
nature of Mind, which the scheme of materialism so gra¬ 
tuitously, yet so dogmatically assumes.' 

The power of reflection, it is well known, is the last of 
our intellectual faculties that unfolds itself; and, in by 
far the greater number of individuals, it never unfolds 
itself in any considerable degree. It is a fact equally cer¬ 
tain, that, long before the period of life when this power 
begins to exercise its appropriate functions, the under¬ 
standing is already preoccupied with a chaos of opi¬ 
nions, notions, impressions and associations, bearing on 
the most important objects of human inquiry ; not to men¬ 
tion the innumerable sources of illusion and errour con¬ 
nected with the use of a vernacular language, learned in 
infancy by rote, and identified with the first processes of 
thought and perception. The consequence is, that when 
Man begins to reflect, he finds himself (if I may borrow an 
allusion of M. Turgot’s) lost in a labyrinth, into which he 
had been led blindfolded. 2 To the same purpose, it was 
long ago complained of by Bacon, “ that no one has yet been 
found of so constant and severe a mind, as to have deter¬ 
mined and tasked himself utterly to abolish theories and 
common notions, and to apply his intellect, altogether 
smoothed and even, to particulars anew. Accordingly, 
that human reason which we have, is a kind of medley and 
unsorted collection, from much trust and much accident, 
and the childish notions which we first drank in. Where¬ 
as, if one of ripe age and sound senses, and a mind tho- 

1 See Note K. 

2 ‘ k Quand I’homme a voulu se replier sur lui-meme il s’est 
trouve dans un labyrinthe ou i! etoit e litre les yeux baniUis.” 
Oeuvres de Turgot , Tom. 11, p. 261. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRS* DISSERTATION. 


143 


roughly cleared, should apply himself freshly to experiment 
and particulars, of him were better things to be hoped.” 

What Bacon has here recommended, Descartes attempt¬ 
ed to execute ; and so exact is the coincidence of his 
views on this fundamental point with those of his prede¬ 
cessor, that it is with difficulty I can persuade myself that 
he had never read Bacon’s works . 1 In the prosecution 
of this undertaking, the first steps of Descartes are pecu¬ 
liarly interesting and instructive; and it is these alone 
which merit our attention at present. As for the details 
of his system, they are now curious only as exhibiting an 
amusing contrast to the extreme rigour of the principle 
from whence the author sets out ; a contrast so very strik¬ 
ing, as fully to justify the epigrarnmatick sayingof D’Alem¬ 
bert, that “ Descartes began with doubting of every thing, 
and ended in believing that he had left nothing unexplain¬ 
ed.” 

Among the various articles of common belief which 
Descartes proposed' to subject to a severe scrutiny, he 
enumerates particularly, the conclusiveness of mathema¬ 
tical demonstration ; the existence of God ; the existence of 
the material world ; and even the existence of his own body- 
The only thing that appeared to him certain and incontro¬ 
vertible, was his own existence ; by which he repeatedly re¬ 
minds us, we are to understand merely the existence of his 
mind abstracted from all consideration of the material or¬ 
gans connected with it. About every other proposition, 
he conceived that doubts might reasonably be entertained ; 
but to suppose the non-existence of that which thinks, at the 
very moment it is conscious of thinking, appeared to him 
a contradiction in terms. From this single postulatura, ac¬ 
cordingly, he took his departure; resolved to admit noth- 


1 See Note L, 


144 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 5 It* 


ing as a philosophical truth, which could not be deduced 
from it by a chain of logical reasoning. 1 

Having first satisfied himself of his own existence, his next 
step was to inquire, how far his perceptive and intellectual fa¬ 
culties were entitled to credit. For this purpose, he begins 
with offering a proof of the existence and attributes of God ; 
truths which he conceived to be necessarily involved in the 
idea he was able to form of a perfect, self-existent, and eternal 
being. His reasonings on this point it would be useless to 
state. It is sufficient to observe, that they led him to con¬ 
clude, that God cannot possibly be supposed to deceive 
his creatures ; and therefore, that the intimations of our 
senses, and the decisions of our reason, are to be trusted 
to with entire confidence, wherever they afford us clear and 
distinct ideas of their respective objects . 2 

1 “ Sic autem rejicieiites ilia omnia, de quibus aliquo modo 
possumus dubitare, ac etiam falsa esse fingentes, facile quidem 
supponimus nullum esse Deum, nullum coelum, nulla corpora; 
nosque etiam ipsos, non habere manus, nec pedes, nec denique 
ullum corpus; non autem ideo nos, qui talia cogitaraus, nihil 
esse : repugnat enim, ut putemus, id quod cogitat, eo ipso tem¬ 
pore quo cogitat, non existere. Ac proinde haec cognitio, ego 
cogito , ergo sum , est omnium prima et certissima, quae cuilibet 
ordine philosophanti occurrat.” Princip. Philos. Pars I. § 7. 

2 The substance of Descartes' argument on these fundamental 
points, is thus briefly recapitulated by himself in the conclusion 
of his third Meditation:—■“ Dum in meipsum mentis aciem con- 
verto, non modo intelligo me esse rem incompletam, et ah alio 
dependentem, remque ad majora et meliora indefinite aspirantem, 
sed simul etiam intelligo ilium, a quo pendeo, majora ista omnia 
non indefinite et potentia tantum, sed reipsa infinite in se habe¬ 
re, atque ita Deum esse; totaque vis argumenti in eo est. quod 
agnoscam fieri non posse ut existem talis naturae qualis sum, nem- 
pe ideam Dei in me habens, nisi revera Deus etiamexisteret, Deus, 
inquam, ille idem cujusideain me est, hoc est habens omnes illas 
perfectiones quas ego non comprehendere sed quocunque modo 
attingere cogitatione possum, et nullis plane defectibus obnox- 
ius. Ex his satis patet, ilium fallacem esse non posse : omnem 
enim fraudem et deceptionem a defectu aliquo pendere lumine 
naturali manifestum est,” 


CHAP. XI.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


145 


As Descartes conceived the existence of God (next to 
the existence of his own mind) to be the most indisputable 
of all truths, and rested his confidence in the conclusions 
of human reason entirely on his faith in the divine veraci¬ 
ty, it is not surprising that he should have rejected the ar¬ 
gument from final causes , as superfluous and unsatisfactory. 
To have availed himself of its assistance, would not only 
have betrayed a want of confidence in what he professed 
to regard as much more certain than any mathematical 
theorem; but would obviously have exposed him to the 
charge of first appealing to the divine attributes in proof of 
the authority of his faculties; and afterwards, of appeal¬ 
ing to these faculties, in proof of the existence of God. 

It is wonderful, that it should have escaped the penetra¬ 
tion of this most acute thinker, that a vicious circle of the 
same description is involved in every appeal to the intel¬ 
lectual powers, in proof of their own credibility; and that un¬ 
less this credibility be assumed as unquestionable, the far¬ 
ther exercise of human reason is altogether nugatory. 
The evidence for the existence of God seems to have ap- 

The above argument for the existence of God (very impro¬ 
perly called by some foreigners an argument a priori ,) was long 
considered by the most eminent men in Europe as quite demon¬ 
strative. For my own part, although 1 do not think that it is by 
any means so level to the apprehension of common inquirers, as 
the argument from the marks of design every where manifested 
in the universe, I am still less inclined to reject it as altogether 
unworthy of attention. It is far from being so metaphysically 
abstruse as the reasonings of Newton and Clarke, founded on 
our conceptions of space and of time ; nor would it appear, per¬ 
haps, less logical and conclusive than that celebrated demonstra¬ 
tion, if it were properly unfolded, and stated in more simple and 
popular terms. The two arguments, however, are in no respect, 
exclusive of each other; and I have always thought, that, by 
combining them together, a proof of the point in question might 
be formed, more impressive and luminous than is to be obtained 
from either, when stated apart. 


146 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[pam* i. § n. 


peared to Descartes too irresistible and overwhelming, to 
be subjected to those logical canons which apply to all the 
other conclusions of the understanding. ' 

Extravagant and hopeless as these preliminary steps 
must now appear, they had nevertheless an obvious ten¬ 
dency to direct the attention of the author, in a singular 
degree, to the phenomena of thought; and to train him to 
those habits of abstraction from external objects, which, 
to the bulk of mankind, are next to impossible. In this 
way, he was led to perceive, with the evidence of con¬ 
sciousness, that the attributes of Mind were still more clear¬ 
ly and distinctly knowable than those of Matter; and that, 
in studying the former, so far from attempting to explain 
them by analogies borrowed from the latter, our chief 
aim ought to be, to banish as much as possible from the 
fancy, every analogy, and even every analogical expres¬ 
sion, which, by inviting the attention abroad, might di¬ 
vert it from its proper business at home. In one word, 
that the only right method of philosophizing on this sub¬ 
ject was comprised in the old stoical precept (understood 
in a sense somewhat different from that originally annexed 
to it) nec te quaesiveris extra . A just conception of this 
rule, and a steady adherence to its spirit, constitutes the 

1 How painful is it to recollect, that the philosopher who had 
represented his faith in the veracity of God, as the sole founda¬ 
tion of his confidence in the demonstrations of mathematicks, 
was accused and persecuted by his contemporaries as an atheist; 
and that, too, in the same country (Holland,) where, for more 
than half a century after his death, his doctrines were to be 
taught in all the universities with a blind idolatry! A zeal with¬ 
out knowledge, and the influence of those earthly passions, from 
which even protestant divines are not always exempted, may, it 
is to be hoped, go far to account for this inconsistency and in¬ 
justice, without adopting the uncharitable insinuation of D’Alem¬ 
bert : “ Malgre toute la sagacite qu’il avoit employee pour prou- 
ver 1’existence de Dieu, i! fut accuse de ia nier par des mini$trcs % 
qui peutetre ne la croyoient pas? 


SHIP. II.) 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


147 


groundwork of what is properly called the Experimental 
Philosophy of the Human Mind, it is thus that all our 
facts relating to Mind must be ascertained ; and it is only 
upon facts thus attested by our own consciousness, that any 
just theory of Mind can be reared. 

Agreeably to these views, Descartes, was, I think, the 
first who clearly saw, that our idea of Mind is not direct, 
but relative ;—relative to the various operations of which 
we are conscious. What am I ? he asks, in his second 
Meditation : A thinking being,—that is, a being doubting, 
knowing, affirming, denying, consenting, refusing, suscep¬ 
tible of pleasure and of pain . 1 Of all these things I might 
have had complete experience, without any previous ac¬ 
quaintance with the qualities and laws of matter; and. 
therefore it is impossible that the study of matter can 
avail me aught in the study of myself. This, accordingly, 
Descartes laid down as a first principle ; that nothing com- 
prehensible by the imagination can be at all subservient 
to the knowledge of Mind ; and that the sensible images 
involved in all our common forms of speaking concerning 
its operations, are to be guarded against with the most anx¬ 
ious care, as tending to confound, in our apprehensions, 
two classes of phenomena, which it is of the last impor¬ 
tance to distinguish accurately from each other . 2 

1 “ Non sum compages ilia membrorum, quae corpus humanum 
appellatur ; non sum etiam tenuis aliquis aer islis membris infu- 

sus; non ventus, non ignis, non vapor, non halitus-Quid igilur 

sum? res cogitans; quidest hoc? uempe dubitans, iutelligens, 
affirmans, negans, volens, nolens,” &c. Med. Sec. 

a “Itaque cognosco, nihil eorum quae possum Imaginatione 
comprehendere, ad hanc quam de me habeo notitiam pertinere; 
mentemque ah illis diligentissime esse avocandam, ut suam ipsa 
naturam quam distinctissime percipiat. Ibid. A few senten¬ 
ces before, Descartes explains with precision in what sense Ima¬ 
gination is here to be understood. “Nihil aliud est imaginari 
quam rei corporeae figuram seu imaginem contemplari ” 


148 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


(part I. § II- 


To those who are familiarly acquainted with the writ¬ 
ings of Locke, and of the very few among his successors 
who have thoroughly entered into the spirit of his philo¬ 
sophy, the foregoing observations may not appear to pos¬ 
sess much either of originality or of importance; but 
when first given to the world, they formed the greatest 
step ever made in the science of Mind, by a single indi¬ 
vidual. What a contrast do they exhibit, not only to the 
discussions of the schoolmen, but to the analogical theo¬ 
ries of Hobbes at the very same period ! and how often 

The following extracts from a book published at Cambridge 
in 1660 (precisely ten years after the death of Descartes,) while 
they furnish a useful comment on some of the above remarks, 
may serve to shew, how completely the spirit of the Cartesian 
philosophy of Mind had been seized, even then, by some of 
the members of that university. 

“ The souls of men exercising themselves first of all ximeru 
vpfSxTtxn, as the Greek philosopher expresseth himself, m; i iy 
by a progressive kind of motion , spending themselves about bodi¬ 
ly and material acts, and conversing only with sensible things; 
they are apt to acquire such deep stamps of material phantasms to 
themselves, that they cannot imagine their own Being to he any 
other than material and divisible , though of a fine ethereal na¬ 
ture. It is not possible for ns well to know what our souls are, 
but only by their xmxvxXixui, their circular or reflex motions , 
am! converse with themselves, which can only steal from them 
their own secrets.” Smith’s Select Discourses, p. 65. 66. 

-.“If we reflect but upon our own souls, how manifestly do the 
notions of reason, freedorr, perception, and the like, offer them¬ 
selves to us, whereby we may know a thousand times more dis¬ 
tinctly what our souls are, than what our bodies are. For the 
former we know, by an immediate converse with ourselves, and 
a distinct sense of their operations; whereas all our knowledge 
of the body is little better than merely historical, which we 
gather up by scraps and piecemeal, from more doubtful and un¬ 
certain experiments which we make of them; but the notions 
which we have of a mind,i. e. something within us that thinks, 
apprehends, reasons, and discourses, are so clear and distinct from 
all those notions which we can fasten upon a body, that we can 
easily conceive that if all body-being in the world were destroy¬ 
ed, yet we might then as well subsist as now we do.” Ibid, 
p. 98. 


i 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


149 


have they been since lost sight of, notwithstanding the 
clearest speculative conviction of their truth and impor¬ 
tance, by Locke himself, and by the greatest part of his 
professed followers ! Had they been duly studied and un¬ 
derstood by Mr. Horne Tooke, they would have furnish¬ 
ed him with a key for solving those etymological riddles, 
which, although mistaken by many of his contemporaries 
for profound philosophical discoveries, derive, in fact, the 
whole of their mystery, from the strong bias of shallow 
reasoners to relapse into the same scholastick errours, 
from which Descartes, Locke, Berkeley, Hume, and Reid, 
have so successfully laboured to emancipate the mind. 

If any thing can add to our admiration of a train of 
thought manifesting in its author so unexampled a triumph 
over the strongest prejudices of sense, it is the extraordi¬ 
nary circumstance of its having first occurred to a young 
man, who had spent the years commonly devoted to aca¬ 
demical study, amid the dissipation and tumult of camps . 1 
Nothing could make this conceivable, but the very liberal 
education which he had previously received under the 
Jesuits, at the college of La Fleche ; 2 where, we are told, 

1 “ Descartes porta les armes, d’abord en Hollande, sous le 
ceiebre Maurice de Nassau; de-la en Allemagne, sous Maxi- 
milien de Baviere, au commencement de ta guerre de trente ans. 
II passa ensuite au service de PEmpereur Ferdinand II, pour voir 
de plus pres les troubles de la Hongrie. On croit aussi, qu’au 
siege de la Rochelle, il combattit, comme volontaire, dans une 
bataille contre la flotte Angloise.” Thomas, Eloge de Descar¬ 
tes\ Note 8. 

When Descartes quitted the profession of arms, he had arriv¬ 
ed at the age of twenty-five. 

2 It is a curious coincidence, that it was in the same village of 
La F f eche that Mr. Hume fixed his residence, while composing 
his Treatise of Human Nature. Is it not probable, that he was 
partly attracted to it, by associations similar to those which pre¬ 
sented themselves to the fancy of Cicero, when he visited the 
walks of the Academy ? 


20 


150 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[par* I. $ ”* 


that while yet a boy, he was so distinguished by habits 
of deep meditation, that he went among his companions 
by the name of the Philosopher. Indeed, it is only at 
that early age, that such habits are to be cultivated with 
complete success. 

The glory, however, of having pointed out to his suc¬ 
cessors the true method of studying the theory of Mind , 
is almost all that can be claimed by Descartes in logical 
and metaphysical science. Many important hints, indeed, 
maybe gleaned from his works; but, on the whole, he 
has added very little to our knowledge of human nature- 
Nor will this appear surprising, when it is recollected, that; 
he aspired to accomplish a similar revolution in all the va¬ 
rious departments of physical knowledge ;—not to men¬ 
tion the time and thought he must have employed in those 
mathematical researches, which, however lightly esteemed 
by himself, have been long regarded as the most solid 
basis of his fame. 1 

Among the principal articles of the Cartesian philosphy, 
which are now incorporated with our prevailing and most 

In the beginning of Descartes’ dissertation upon Method , he 
has given a very interesting account of the pursuits which oc¬ 
cupied his youth ! and of the considerations which suggested to 
him the bold undertaking of reforming philosophy. 

1 Such too is the judgment pronounced by D’Alembert. “ Les 
mathematiques dont Descartes semble avoir fait assez peu decas, 
font neanmoins aujourd’hui la partie la plus solide et la moins 
contestee de sa gioire.” To this he adds a very ingenious re¬ 
flection on the comparative merits of Descartes, considered as a 
geometer and as a philosopher. “ Comme philosophe, il a peut- 
dtre ete aussi grand, mais il n’a pas ele si heureux. La Geoine* 
trie, qui par la nature de son objet doit toujours gagner sans per- 
dre, ne pouvoit m inquer, etant m tniee par un aussi grand genie, 
de faire des progres tres-sensibles et apparens pour tout le mon- 
de. La philosophic se trouvoit dans un etat bien different, tout 
y etoit a cominencer; et que ne coutent point les premiers pas cn 
tout genre! le nitrite de les faire dispense de celui eVen faire dc 
grands .” Disc. Prcl. 


CHAP. n.) 


FIRST DISSERTATION*. 


151 


accredited doctrines, the following seem to me to be chiefly 
entitled to notice : 

1. His luminous exposition of the common logical er- 
rour of attempting to define words which express notions 
too simple to admit of analysis. Mr. Locke claims this 
improvement as entirely his own ; but the merit of it un¬ 
questionably belongs to Descartes, although it must be 
owned that he has not always sufficiently attended to it in 
his own researches. 1 

2. His observations on the different classes of our pre¬ 
judices ;—particularly on the errours to which we are lia¬ 
ble in consequence of a careless use of language as the in¬ 
strument of thought. The greater part of these obser¬ 
vations, if not the whole, had been previously hinted at 
by Bacon ; but they are expressed by Descartes with 
greater precision and simplicity, and in a style better adapt¬ 
ed to the taste of the present age. 

3. The paramount and indisputable authority which, in 
all our reasonings concerning the human mind, he ascribes 
to the evidence of consciousness. Of this logical princi¬ 
ple he has availed himself, with irresistible force, in re¬ 
futing the scholastick sophisms against the liberty of hu¬ 
man actions, drawn from the prescience of the Deity, and 
other considerations of a theological nature. 

4. The most important, however, of all his improve¬ 
ments in metaphysicks, is the distinction which he has so 
clearly and so strongly drawn between the 'primary and the 
secondary qualities of matter. This distinction was not 

• * “ The names of simple ideas are not capable of any defini¬ 
tions; the names of all complex ideas are. It has not, that l 
know, been yet ot served by any body, what words are, and 
what are not capable of being defined.” (Locke’s Essay, Book 
iii, chap, iv, § iv.) Compare this with the Principia of Uescar- 
tes, I, 10 ; and with Lord Stair’s Philolopa Nova Experimentalise 
pp. 9, and 79, printed at Leyden in 1680. 


152 FIRST DISSERTATION* {part i. $ u. 

unknown to some of the ancient schools of philosophy in 
Greece; but it was afterwards rejected by Aristotle, and 
by the schoolmen ; and it was reserved for Descartes to 
place it in such a light, as (with the exception of a very 
few skeptical or rather paradoxical theorists) to unite the 
opinions of all succeeding inquirers. For this step, so 
apparently easy, but so momentous in its consequences, 
Descartes was not indebted to any long or difficult pro¬ 
cesses of reasoning; but to those habits of accurate and 
patient attention to the operations of his own mind, which, 
from his early years, it was the great business of his life 
to cultivate. It may be proper to add, that the epithets 
‘primary and secondary , now universally employed to 
mark the distinction in question, were first introduced by 
Locke; a circumstance which may have contributed to 
throw into the shade the merits of those inquirers, who 
had previously struck into the same path. 

As this last article of the Cartesian system has a close 
connexion with several of the most refined conclusions 
yet formed concerning the intellectual phenomena, I feel it 
due to the memory of the author, to pause for a few mo¬ 
ments, in order to vindicate his claim to some leading 
ideas, commonly supposed by the present race of meta¬ 
physicians to be of much later origin. In doing so, I 
shall have an opportunity, at the same time, of introduc¬ 
ing one or two remarks, which, I trust, will be useful in 
clearing up the obscurity, which is allowed by some of 
the ablest followers of Descartes and Locke, still to hang 
r over this curious discussion. 

I have elsewhere observed, that Descartes has been very 
generally charged by the writers of the last century, with a 
sophistical play upon words, in his doctrine concerning thq 


£HAF. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


153 


non-existence of secondary qualifies; while, in fact, he 
was the first person by whom fhe fallacy of this scholas¬ 
tic k paralogism was exposed to the world. 1 Jn proof of 
this, it might be sufficient to refer to his own statement, 
in the first part of the Principia ; 3 but, for a reason 
which will immediately appear, 1 think it more advisable, 
on this occasion, to borrow fhe words of one of his earliest 
and ablest commentators. “It is only (says Father Male- 
brancbe) since the time of Descartes, that to those con¬ 
fused and indeterminate questions, whether fire is hot, grass 
green, and sugar sweet, philosophers are in use to reply, 
by distinguishing the equivocal meaning of the words ex- 

’ “ Descartes, JVTalebranche, and Locke, revived the distinc¬ 
tion between primary and secondary qualities. But they made 
the secondary qualities mere sensations, and the primary ones 
resemblances of our sensations. They maintained, that colour, 
sound, and heat, are not any thing in bodies, but sensations of 

the mind.-The paradoxes of these philosophers were only 

an abuse of words. For when they maintain, as an important 
modern discovery , that there is no heat in the fire, they mean no 
more, than that the fire does not feel heat, which every one knew 
before.”— Reid's Inquiry, chap, v, sect. viii. 

2 See sections Ixix, Ixx, Ixxi. The whole of these three para¬ 
graphs is highly interesting; but I shall only quote two sentences, 
which are fully sufficient to shew, that, in the above observa¬ 
tions, I have done Descartes no more than strict justice. 

“ Patet itaque in re idem esse, cum dicimus nos percipere co¬ 
lores in objectis, ac si diceremus nos percipere a liquid in objec- 
tis, quod quidem quid sit ignoramus, sed a quo efficitur in nobis 
ipsis sensus quidam valde manifestus et perspicuus, qui vocatur 

sensus colorum.-Cum veroputamus nos percipere colores 

in objectis, etsi revera nesciamus quidnam sit quod tunc nomine 
coloris appellamus, nec ullam similitudinem intelligere possimus, 
inter colorem quern supponimus esse in objectis, et ilium quern 
experimur esse in sensu, quia tamen hoc ipsum non advertimus, 
et multa alia sunt, ut magnitudo, figura, numerus, &c. quae clare 
percipimus non aliter a nobis sentiri vel intelligi. quam ut sunt, 
aut saltern esse possunt in objectis, facile in eum errorem dela- 
bimur, ut judicemus id, quod in objectis vocamus colorem, esse 
quid omnino simile colori quern sentimus, atque ita ut id quod 
nullo mode percipimus, a nobis clare percipi arbitraremur.” 






154 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. $ lU 


pressing sensible qualities. If by heat, cold, and savour, 
you understand such and such a disposition of parts, or 
some unknown motion of sensible qualities, then fire is hot, 
grass green, and sugar sweet. But if by heat and other 
qualities you understand what I feel by fire, what I 
see in grass, &c. fire is not hot, nor grass green; for the 
heat I feel, and the colours I see, are only in the 
soul.” 1 It is surprising how this, and other passages 
to the same purpose in Malebranche, should have escaped 
the notice of Dr. Reid ; for nothing more precise on the 
ambiguity in the names of secondary qualities is to be 
found in his own works. It is still more surprising that 
Buffier, who might be expected to have studied with care 
the speculations of his illustrious countrymen, should have 
directly charged, not only Descartes, but Malebranche, 
w r ith maintaining a paradox, w hich they were at so much 
pains to banish from the schools of philosophy. 2 

The important observations of Descartes upon this sub¬ 
ject, made their way into England very soon after his 
death. They are illustrated at considerable length, and 
with great ingenuity, by Glanville, in his Scepsis Scientifi - 
ca, published about thirteen years before Malebranche’s 

1 Rccherchc de la Virili , Livre vi, chap. ii. 

2 “ J’ai admire souvent que d’aussi grands homines que Des¬ 
cartes et Malebranche, avec lenrs sectateurs, fissent valoir, 
comme une rare decouverte de leur philosophic, que la chaleur 
etoit dans nous-mimes et nullement dans le feu ; au lieu que le 
commun des hommes trouvoient que la chaleur etoit dans le feu 

aussi bien que dans nous. -Mais en ce fameux debat, de 

quoi s’agit il ? Uniquementde f imperfection du langage, qui cau* 
soil une idee confuse par le mot de chaleur , ce mot exprimant 
egalement deux choses, qui a la verite ont quelque rapport ou 
analogic, et pourtant qui sont tres differentes; savoir, 1. le sen¬ 
timent de chaleur que nous eprouvons en nous; 2. la disposition 
qui est dans le feu a produire en nous ce sentiment de cha¬ 
leur.” Cours de Sciences , par le Pere Buffier, p. 819, A Paris, 
1732. 



CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


155 


Search after Truth. So slow, however, is the progress of 
good sense, when it has to struggle against the prejudices 
of the learned, that, as lately as 1713, the paradox so 
clearly explained and refuted by Descartes, appears to 
have kept some footing in that university from which, about 
thirty years before, Mr. Locke had been expelled. In a 
paper of the Guardian , giving an account of a visit paid 
by Jack Lizard to his mother and sisters, after a year and 
a half’s residence at Oxford, the following precis is given 
of his logical attainments. “ For the first week(it is said) 
Jack dealt wholly in paradoxes. It was a common jest 
with him to pinch one of his sister’s lapdogs, and after¬ 
wards prove he could not feel it. When the girls were 
sorting a set of knots, he would demonstrate to them that 
all the ribbons were of the same colour ; or rather, says 
Jack, of no colour at all. My Lady Lizard herself, though 
she was not a little pleased with her son’s improvements, 
was one day almost angry with him ; for, having acciden¬ 
tally burnt her fingers as she was lighting the lamp for her 
teapot, in the midst of her anguish, Jack laid hold of the 
opportunity to instruct her, that there was no such thing as 
heat in the fire.” 

This miserable quibble about the non-existence of se¬ 
condary qualities, never could have attracted the notice of 
so many profound thinkers, had it not been for a peculiar 
difficulty connected with our notions of colour , of which I 
do not know any one English philosopher who seems to 
have been sufficiently aware. That this quality belongs to 
the same class with sounds, smells, tastes, heat and cold, is 
equally admitted by the partizans of Descartes and of Locke ; 
and must, indeed, appear an indisputable fact to all who are 
capable of reflecting accurately on the subject. But still, 
between colour and the other qualities now mentioned, a 
very important distinction must be allowed to exist. In the 


156 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. § u. 


case of smells, tastes, sounds, heat and cold, every person 
must immediately perceive, that his senses give him only a 
relative idea of the external quality ; in other words, that 
they only convey to him the knowledge of the existence of 
certain properties or powers in external objects, which fit 
them to produce certain sensations in his mind ; and accord¬ 
ingly, nobody ever hesitated a moment about the truth of 
this part of the Cartesian philosophy, in so far as these qua¬ 
lities alone are concerned. But, in the application of the 
same doctrine to colour , I have conversed with many, with 
whom I found it quite in vain to argue ; and this, not from 
any defect in their reasoning powers, but from their inca¬ 
pacity to reflect steadily on the subjects of their conscious¬ 
ness ; or rather, perhaps, from their incapacity to separate, 
as objects of the understanding, two things indissolubly 
combined by early and constant habit, as objects of the ima¬ 
gination. The silence of modern metaphysicians on this 
head is the more surprising, that D’Alembert long ago in¬ 
vited their attention to it as one of the most wonderful phe¬ 
nomena in the history of the human mind. “ The bias we 
acquire,” I quote his own words, “ in consequence of habits 
contracted in infancy, to refer to a substance material and 
divisible, what really belongs to a substance spiritual and 
simple, is a thing well worthy of the attention of metaphy¬ 
sicians. Nothing,” he adds,“ is perhaps more extraordina¬ 
ry, in the operations of the mind, than to see it transport its 
sensations out of itself, and to spread them, as it were, over 
a substance to which they cannot possibly belong.” It 
would be difficult to state the fact in question in terms more 
brief, precise, and perspicuous. 

That the illusion, so well described in the above quota¬ 
tion, was not overlooked by Descartes and Maiebranche, 
appears unquestionably, from their extreme solicitude to re¬ 
concile it with that implicit faith, which, from religious con- 


SHA1*. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


157 


siderations, they conceived to be due (o the testimony of 
those faculties with which our Maker has endowed us. Ma- 
lebranche, in particular, is at pains to distinguish between 
the sensation, and the judgment combined with it. “ The 
sensation never deceives us ; it differs in no respect from 
what we conceive it to be. The judgment, too, is natural, 
or rather (says Malebranche,) it is only a sort of com¬ 
pounded sensation ;' but this judgment leads us into no er- 
rour with respect to philosophical truth. The moment we 
exercise our reason, we see the fact in its true tight, and can 
account completely for that illusive appearance which it 
presents to the imagination.” 

Not satisfied, however, with this solution of the difficul¬ 
ty, or rather perhaps apprehensive that it might not appear 
quite satisfactory to some others, he has called in to his 
assistance the doctrine of original sin ; asserting, that all 
the mistaken judgments which our constitution leads us to 
form concerning external objects and their qualities, are 
the consequences of the fall of our first parents; since 
w r hich adventure (as it is somewhat irreverently called by 
Dr. Beattie,) it requires the constant vigilance of reason to 
guard against the numberless tricks and impostures practis¬ 
ed upon us by our external senses. 1 2 In another passage, 
Malebranche observes very beautifully (though not very 
consistently with his theological argument on the same 
point,) that our senses being given us for the preservation 

1 He would have expressed himself more accurately, if he had 
said, that the judgment is indissolubly combined with the sensa¬ 
tion; but his meaning is sufficiently obvious. 

2 “ We are Infortned by Father Malebranche, that the senses 
were at first as honest faculties as one could desire to be endued 
with, till after they were debauched by original sin; an adven¬ 
ture from which they contracted such an invincible propensity 
to cheating, that they, are now continually lying in wait to de¬ 
ceive us.” Essay on Truth, p. 241, second edition. 

21 


158 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. 5 1!. 


of our bodies, it was requisite for our well being, that we 
should judge as we do of sensible qualities. “ In the case 
of the sensations of pain and of heat , it was much more 
advantageous that w T e should seem to feel them in those 
parts of the body which are immediately affected by them* 
than that we should associate them with the external objects 
by which they are occasioned ; because pain and heat, hav¬ 
ing the power to injure our members, it was necessary that 
we should be warned in what place to apply the remedy ; 
whereas colours not being likely, in ordinary cases, to 
hurt the eye, it would have been superfluous for us to 
know that they are painted on the retina. On the contra¬ 
ry, as they are only useful to us, from the information they 
convey with respect to things external, it was essential that 
we should be so formed as to attach them to the correspond¬ 
ing objects on which they depend. 1 

1 Recherche delaVcrite, Liv. i, chap. xiii, § 5. In Dr Reid** 
strictures on Descartes and Locke there are two remarks which 
I am at a loss how to reconcile. “ Colour,” says he, “ differs from 
other secondary qualities in this, that whereas the name of the 
quality is sometimes given to the sensation which indicates it, 
and is occasioned by it, we never, as far as I can judge, give the 
name of colour to the sensation, but to the quality only.” A few 
sentences before, he had observed, “ That when we think or 
speak of any particular colour, however simple the notion may 
seem to be which is presented to the imagination, it is really in 
some sort compounded. It involves an unknown cause, and 
a known effect. The name of colour belongs indeed to the cause 
only, and not to the effect. But as the cause is unknown, we 
can form no distinct conception of it, but by its relation to the 
known effect. And, therefore, both go together in the imagina¬ 
tion, and are so closely united, that they are mistaken for one 
simple object of thought.” Inquiry , chap, vi, sect. 4. 

These two passages, seem quite inconsistent wi|h each other. If 
in the perception of colour, the sensation ant}, the quality “be so 
closely united as to be mistaken for one single object of thought,” 
does it not obviously follow, that it is to this compounded notion 
the name of colour must, in general, be given ? On the other hand, 
when it is said that the name, of colour is never given to the sensa- 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


159 


The two following remarks, which I shall state with all 
possible brevity, appear to me to go far towards a solution 
of the problem proposed by D’Alembert. 

1. According to the new theory of vision, commonly 
(but, as I shall afterwards shew, not altogether justly) as¬ 
cribed to Dr. Berkeley, lineal distance from the eye is not 
an original perception of sight. In the meantime, from the 
first moment that the eye opens, the most intimate connex¬ 
ion must necessarily be established between the notion of 
colour and those of visible extension and figure. At first, 
it is not improbable that all of them may be conceived to 
be merely modifications of the mind; but, however this 
may be, the manifest consequence is, that when a com¬ 
parison between the senses of Sight and of Touch has 
taught us to refer to a distance the objects of the one, the 
indissolubly associated sensations of the other must of 
course accompany them, how far soever that distance may 
extend. 1 - 

2. It is well known to be a general law of our constitu¬ 
tion, when one thing is destined, either by nature or by 
convention, to be the sign of another, that the mind has 
a disposition to pass on, as rapidly as possible, to the thing 
signified, without dwelling on the sign as an object worthy 
of its attention. The most remarkable of all examples of 
this occurs in the acquired perceptions of sight, where 
our estimates of distance are frequently the result of an 
intellectual process, comparing a variety of different signs 
together, without a possibility on our part, the moment af¬ 
terwards, of recalling one single step of the process to our 
recollection. Our inattention to the sensations of colour, 

tion hut to the quality only , does not this imply, that every time the 
word is pronounced, the quality is separated from the sensation, 
even in the imaginations of the vulgar ? 

1 See Note M. 


J60 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. 5 II. 


considered as affections of the Mind, or as modifications of 
our own being, appears to me to be a fact of precisely the 
same description; for all these sensations were plainly in¬ 
tended by nature to perform the office of signs , indicating 
to us the figures and distances of things external. Of 
their essential importance in this point of view, an idea 
may be formed, by supposing for a moment the whole 
face of nature to exhibit only one uniform colour, without 
the slightest variety even of light and shade. Is it not 
self evident that, on this supposition, the organ of sight 
would be entirely useless, inasmuch as it is by the varie¬ 
ties of colour alone that the outlines or visible figures of 
bodies are so defined, as to be distinguishable one from 
another ? Nor could the eye, in this case, give us any in* 
formation concerning diversities of distance ; for all the 
various signs of it, enumerated by optical writers, pre¬ 
suppose the antecedent recognition of the bodies around 
us, as separate objects of perception. It is not therefore 
surprising, that signs so indispensably subservient to the 
exercise of our noblest sense, should cease, in early in¬ 
fancy, to attract notice as the subjects of our conscious¬ 
ness ; and that afterwards they should present themselves 
to the imagination rather as qualities of Matter, than as 
attributes of Mind . 1 

1 In Dr. Reid’s Inquiry, lie has introduced a discussion con¬ 
cerning the perception of visible figure , which has puzzled me 
since the first time (more than forty years ago) that I read his 
work. The discussion relates to this question, Whether “ there 
be any sensation proper to visible figure, by which it is suggested 
in vision ?” The result of the argument is, that “ our eye might 
have been so framed as to suggest the figure of the object, without 
suggesting colour, or any other quality; and, of consequence, that 
there seems to be no sensation appropriated to visible figure; this 
quality being suggested immediately by the material impression 
upon the organ, of which impression we are not conscious.” {In¬ 
quiry, &c. chap, vi, sect. 8.) To my apprehension, nothing can 


QUA?. II.j 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


161 


To this reference of the sensation of colour to the ex¬ 
ternal object, 1 can think of nothing so analogous as the 
feelings we experience in surveying a library of books.— 
We speak of the volumes piled upon its shelves, as trea¬ 
sures or magazines of the knowledge of past ages; and 
contemplate them with gratitude and reverence, as inex¬ 
haustible sources of instruction and delight to the mind. 
Even in looking at a page of print or of manuscript, we are 
apt to say, that the ideas we acquire are received by the 
sense of sight ; and we are scarcely conscious of a meta¬ 
phor, when we employ this language. On such occasions 
we seldom recollect, that nothing is perceived by the eye 
but a multitude of black strokes drawn upon white paper , 
and that it is our own acquired habits which communicate 
to these strokes the whole of that significancy whereby 
they are distinguished from the unmeaning scrawling of an 
infant or a changeling. The knowledge which we conceive 
to be preserved in books, like the fragrance of a rose, or 
the gilding of the clouds, depends, for its existence, on 
the relation between the object and the percipient mind ; 
and the only difference between the two cases is, that in 
the one, this relation is the local and temporary effect of 
conventional habits ; in the other, it is the universal and the 
unchangeable work of nature. The art of printing, it is to 
be hoped, will in future render the former relation, as well 
as the latter, coeval with our species ; but, in the past his^ 
tory of mankind, it is impossible to say how often it may 
have been dissolved. What vestiges can now be traced of 

appear more manifest than this, that, if there had been no variety 
in our sensations of colour, and still more, if we had had no sen¬ 
sation of colour whatsoever, the organ of sight could have given 
us no information, either with respect to figures or to distances ; 
and, of consequence, would have been as useless to us, as if we 
had been afflicted, from the moment of our birth, with a gutta 
seren*. 


162 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. { n. 


those scientifick attainments which, in early times, drew to 
Egypt, from every part of the civilized world, all those 
who were anxious to be initiated in the mysteries of philo¬ 
sophy ? The symbols which still remain in that celebrated 
country, inscribed on eternal monuments, have long lost 
the correspondent minds which reflected upon them their 
own intellectual attributes. To us they are useless and 
silent, and serve only to attest the existence of arts, of 
which it is impossible to unriddle the nature and the ob¬ 
jects. 

-Variis nunc sculpta figuris 

Marmora, trunca tamen visuntur mutaque nobis; 

Signa repertorum tuimur, eecidere reperta. 

What has now been remarked with respect to written 
characters , may be extended very nearly to oral language . 
When we listen to the discourse of a publick speaker, elo¬ 
quence and persuasion seem to issue from his lips; and we 
are little aware, that we ourselves infuse the soul into every 
word that he utters. The case is exactly the same when 
we enjoy the conversation of a friend. We ascribe the 
charm entirely to his voico and accents ; but without our 
cooperation, its potency would vanish. How very small 
the comparative proportion is, which, in such cases, the 
words spoken contribute to the intellectual and moral effect, 
I have elsewhere endeavoured to show. 

I have enlarged on this part of the Cartesian system, not 
certainly on account of its intrinsiok value, as connected 
with the theory of our external perceptions (although even 
in this respect of the deepest interest to every philosophi¬ 
cal inquirer,) but because it affords the most palpable and 
striking example I know of, to illustrate the indissoluble as¬ 
sociations established during the period of infancy, between 
the intellectual and the material worlds. It was plainly 



CUAt. II.} 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


163 


the intention of nature, that our thoughts should be habitu¬ 
ally directed to things external; and accordingly, the bulk 
of mankind are not only indisposed to study the intellec¬ 
tual phenomena, but are incapable of that degree of reflec¬ 
tion which is necessary for their examination. Hence it is, 
that when we begin to analyze our own internal constitu¬ 
tion, we find the facts it presents to us so very intimately 
combined in our conceptions with the qualities of matter, 
that it is impossible for us to draw distinctly and steadily 
the line between them ; and that, when Mind and Matter 
are concerned in the same result, the former is either en¬ 
tirely overlooked, or is regarded only as an accessary prin¬ 
ciple, dependent for its existence on the latter. To the 
same cause it is owing, that we find it so difficult (if it be 
at all practicable) to form an idea of any of our intellectual 
operations, abstracted from the images suggested by their 
metaphorical names. It was objected to Descartes by 
some of his contemporaries, that the impossibility of ac¬ 
complishing the abstractions which he recommended, fur¬ 
nished of itself a strong argument against the soundness of 
his doctrines. 1 The proper answer to this objection does- 
not seem to have occurred to him ; nor, so far as I know, 
to any of his successors;—that the abstractions of the 
understanding are totally different from the abstractions 
of the imagination ; and that we may reason with most 
logical correctness about things considered apart, which it 
is impossible, even in thought, to conceive as separated 
from each other. His own speculations concerning the 
indissolubility of the union established in the mind be¬ 
tween the sensations of colour and the primary qualities 
of extension and figure, might have furnished him, on this 
occasion, with a triumphant reply to his adversaries ; not 

1 See, in particular, Gassendi Opera , Tom. Ill, pp. 300, 30 ? 
Lugduni, 1658. 


164 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. § II, 


to mention that the variety of metaphors, equally fitted 
to denote the same intellectual powers and operations, 
might have been urged as a demonstrative proof, that none 
of these metaphors have any connexion with the general 
laws to which it is the business of the philosopher to trace 
the mental phenomena. 

When Descartes established it as a general principle, 
that nothing conceivable by the power of imagination, 
could throw any light on the operations of thought (a prin¬ 
ciple which I consider as exclusively his own,) he laid the 
foundation-stone of the Experimental Philosophy of the 
Human Mind. That the same truth had been previously 
perceived more or less distinctly, by Bacon and others, ap¬ 
pears probable from the general complexion Gf their spe¬ 
culations ; but which of them has expressed it with equal 
precision, or laid it down as a fundamental maxim in their 
logick? It is for this reason, that I am disposed to date 
the origin of the true Philosophy of Mind from the Prin- 
cipia of Descartes rather than from the Organon of Ba¬ 
con, or the Essay of Locke ; without, however, meaning 
to compare the French author with our two countrymen, 
either as a contributor to our stock of facts relating to the 
intellectual phenomena, or as the author of any important 
conclusion concerning the general laws to which they may 
be referred. It is mortifying to reflect on the inconceiv¬ 
ably small number of subsequent inquirers by whom the 
spirit of this cardinal maxim has been fully seized ; and 
that, even in our own times, the old and inveterate prejudice 
to which it is opposed, should not only have been revived 
with success, but should have been very generally re¬ 
garded as an original and profound discovery in metaphy¬ 
sical science. These circumstances must plead my apolo¬ 
gy for the space I have assigned to the Cartesian Meta- 
physicks in the crowded historical picture which I am at 


CHAP- II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


165 


present attempting to sketch. The fulness of illustration 
which I have bestowed on the works of the master, will 
enable me to pass over those of his disciples, and even of 
his antagonists, with a correspondent brevity . 1 

After having said so much of the singular merits of 
Descartes as the father of genuine metaphysicks, it is in¬ 
cumbent on me to add, that his errours in this science 
were on a scale of proportionate magnitude. Of these 
the most prominent (for I must content myself with bare¬ 
ly mentioning a few of essential importance) were his ob¬ 
stinate rejection of all speculations about final causes ; 2 his 
hypothesis concerning the lower animals, which he con¬ 
sidered as mere machines ; 3 his doctrine of innate ideas, 

1 The Cartesian doctrine concerning the secondary qualities 
of matter, is susceptible of various other important applications. 
Might it not be employed, at least as an argumentum ad Jwmi- 
nem against Mr. Hume and others, who, admitting this part of the 
Cartesian system, seem nevertheless to have a secret leaning to 
the scheme of materialism? Mr. Hume has somewhere spoken 
of that little agitation of the brain we call thought. If it be un- 
philosophical to confound our sensations of colour, of heat, and 
of cold, with such qualities of extension, figure, and solidity, is 
it not, if possible, still more so, to confound with these qualities 
the phenomena of thought, of volition, and of moral emotion ? 

2 It is not unworthy of notice, that, in spite of his own logi¬ 
cal rules, Descartes sometimes seems insensibly to adopt, on this 
subject, the common ideas and feelings of mankind. Several 
instances of this occur in his treatise on the Passions, where he 
offers various conjectures concerning the uses to which they are 
subservient. The following sentence is more peculiarly remark¬ 
able : “ Mihi persuadere nequeo, naturam indedisse hominibus 
ullum affectum qui semper visiosus sit, nullumque usum bonum 
et laudabile habeat.” Art. clxxv. 

2 This hypothesis never gained much ground in England; 
and yet a late writer of distinguished eminence in some bran¬ 
ches of science, has plainly intimated that, in his opinion, 
the balance of probabilities inclined in its favour. “ I omit 
mentioning other animals here,” says ftlr. Kirwan in his Meta - 

2*2 


166 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. \ li¬ 


as understood and expounded by himself ; l his noted 
paradox of placing the essence of mind in thinking, and 
of matter in extension ; 2 and his new modification of the 
ideal theory of perception, adopted afterwards, with some 
very slight changes, by Malebranehe, Locke, Berkeley, 
and Hume . 3 To some of these errours I shall have oc¬ 
casion to refer in the sequel of this Discourse. The 
foregoing slight enumeration is sufficient for my present 
purpose. 

In what I have hitherto said of Descartes, I have taken 
no notice of bis metaphysicological theories relative to 
the connexion between soul and body. Of these theories, 
however, groundless and puerile as they are, it is necessa- 

physical Essays , “ as it is at least doubtful whether they are not 
mere automatons .” Met. Essays, p. 41, Lond. 1809. 

1 I have added the clause iu Italicks , because, in Descartes’ 
reasonings on this question, there is no inconsiderable portion of 
most important truth, debased by a large and manifest alloy of 
errour. 

2 To this paradox may be traced many of the conclusions 
of the author, both on physical and on metaphysical sub¬ 
jects. One of the most characteristical features, indeed, of his 
genius, is the mathematical concatenation of his opinions, 
even on questions which, at first sight, seem the most remote 
from each other; a circumstance which, when combined with 
the extraordinary perspicuity of his style, completely accounts 
for the strong hold his philosophy look of every mind, thorough¬ 
ly initiated, at an early period of life, in its principles and doc¬ 
trines. In Consequence of conceiving the essence of matter to 
consist in extension, he was necessarily obliged to maintain 
the doctrine of a universal plenum ; upon which doctrine the 
theory of the vortices carne to be grafted by a very short and 
easy process. The same idea forced him, at the very outset of 
his Metaphysical Meditations , to assert, much more dogmatical¬ 
ly than his premises seem to warrant, the non-extension of Mind; 
and led him on many occasions to blend, very illogically, this 
comparatively disputable dogma, with the facts he has to state 
concerning the mental phenomena. 

3 See Note N. 


CHAP. 1I.-3 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


167 


ry for me, before I proceed farther, to say a few words, on 
account of their extensive and lasting influence on the sub¬ 
sequent history of the science of Mind, not only upon the 
Continent, but in our own Island, 

The hypothesis of Descartes, which assigns to the soul 
for its principal seat the pineal gland or conarion, is 
known to every one who has perused the Alma of Prior. 
It is not, perhaps, equally known, that the circumstance 
which determined him to fix on this particular spot, was 
the very plausible consideration, that, among the different 
parts of the brain, this was the only one he could find, 
which, being single and central, was fitted for the habita¬ 
tion of a being, of which he conceived unity and indivisi¬ 
bility to be essential and obvious attributes. 1 In what 
manner the animal spirits , by their motions forwards and 
backwards in the nervous tubes, keep up the communica¬ 
tion between this gland and the different parts of the body, 
so as to produce the phenomena of perception, memory, 
imagination, and muscular motion, he has attempted par¬ 
ticularly to explain ; describing the processes by which 
these various effects are accomplished, with as decisive a 
tone of authority, as if he had been demonstrating experi¬ 
mentally the circulation of the blood. How curious to 
meet with such speculations in the works of the same phi¬ 
losopher, who had so clearly perceived the necessity, in 
studying the laws of Mind, of abstracting entirely from the 
analogies of Matter; and who, at the outset of his inqui¬ 
ries, had carried his skepticism so far, as to require a proof 
even of the existence of his own body ! To those, however, 
who reflect with attention on the method adopted by Des¬ 
cartes this inconsistency will not appear so inexplicable as 
at first sight may be imagined ; inasmuch as the same skep- 

1 See in particular, the Treatise dr Passionibus , Art. 31, 32 
See also Note 0. 


168 


FIRST DISSERTATION, 


[part I. § II. 


ticisro which led him to suspend his faith in his intellectual 
faculties till he had once proved to his satisfaction, from 
the necessary veracity of God, that these faculties were to 
be regarded as the divine oracles, prepared him, in all the 
subsequent steps of his progress, to listen to the sugges¬ 
tions of his own fallible judgment, with more than common 
credulity and confidence. 

The ideas of Descartes, respecting the communication 
between soul and body, are now so universally rejected, 
that I should not have alluded to them here, had it not 
been for their manifesl influence in producing, at the dis¬ 
tance of a century, the rival hypothesis of Dr. Hartley, 
The first traces of this hypothesis occur in some queries of 
Sir Isaac Newton, which he was probably induced to 
propose, less from the conviction of his own mind, than 
from a wish to turn the attention of philosophers to an ex¬ 
amination of the correspondent part of the Cartesian sys¬ 
tem. Not that I would be understood to deny that this 
great man seems, on more than one occasion, to have been 
so far misled by the example of his predecessor, as to in¬ 
dulge himself in speculating on questions altogether unsus¬ 
ceptible of solution. In the present instance, however, 
there cannot, I apprehend, be a doubt, that it was the ap¬ 
plication made by Descartes of the old theory of animal 
spirits , to explain the mental phenomena, which led New¬ 
ton into that train of thinking which served as the ground¬ 
work of Hartley’s Theory of Vibrations. 1 

i The physiological theory of Descartes, concerning the con¬ 
nexion between soul and body, was adopted, together with some 
of his sounder opinions, by a contemporary English philosopher, 
Mr. Smith of Cambridge, whom 1 had occasion to mention in a 
former note; and that, for some time after the beginning of the 
eighteenth century, it continued to afford one of the chief sub¬ 
jects of controversy between the two English universifies, the 
Alma of Prior affords incontestible evidence. From the same 
poem it appears, how much the reveries of Descartes about the 


■.HAP. 11.] 


PIRST DISSERTATION. 


169 


It would be useless to dwell longer on the reveries of a 
philosopher, much better known to the learned of the 
present age by the boldness of his exploded errours, than, 
by the profound and important truths contained in his 
works. At the period when he appeared, it may perhaps 
be questioned, Whether the truths which he taught, or the 
errours into which he fell, were most instructive to the 
world. The controversies provoked by the latter had cer- 

seat of the soul , contributed to wean the wits of Cambridge from 
their former attachment to the still more incomprehensible 
pneumatology of the schoolmen. 

- Here Matthew said, 

Alma in verse, in prose the mind 
By Aristotle’s pen defin’d, 

Throughout the body squat or tall. 

Is, bona fide , all in all. 

And yet, slap-dash, is all again 
In every sinew, nerve, and vein ; 

Runs here and there like Hamlet’s Ghost, 

While every where she rules the roast. 

This system, Richard, we are told, 

The men of Oxford firmly hold; 

The Cambridge wits, you know, deny 
With ipse dixit to comply. 

They say (for in good truth they speak 
With small respect of that old Greek) 

That, putting all his words together, 

’Tis three blue beans in one blue bladder. 

Alma, they strenuously maintain, 

Sits cock-horse on her throne the brain, 

And from that seat of thought dispenses 
Her sovereign pleasure to the senses, &c. &c. 

The whole poem, from beginning to end, is one continued 
piece of ridicule upon the various hypothesis of physiologists 
concerning the nature of the communication between soul and 
body. The amusing contrast between the solemn absurdity of 
these disputes, and the light pleasantry of the excursions to 
which they lead the fancy of the poet, constitutes the principal 
charm of this performance; by far the most original and cha- 
Facteristieal of all Prior’s Works. 



170 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[PART 1. 5 II 


tainly a more immediate and palpable effect in awakening a 
general spirit of free inquiry. To this consideration may 
be added an ingenious and not altogether unsound remark of 
D’Alembert, that “ when absurd opinions are become in¬ 
veterate, it is sometimes necessary to replace them by 
other errours, if nothing better can be done. Such (he 
continues) are the uncertainty and the vanity of the hu¬ 
man mind, that it has always need of an opinion on which 
it may lean ; it is a child to whom a plaything must oc¬ 
casionally be presented in order to get out of its hands a 
mischievous weapon : the plaything will soon be abandon¬ 
ed, when the light of reason begins to dawn.” 1 

Among the opponents of Descartes, Gassendi was one of 
the earliest, and by far the most formidable. No two 
philosophers were ever more strongly contrasted, both in 
point of talents and of temper; the former as far superiour 
to the latter in originality of genius—in powers of concen¬ 
trated attention to the phenomena of the internal world— 
in classical taste—in moral sensibility, and in all the rarer 
gifts of the mind ; as he fell short of him in erudition—in 
industry as a bookmaker—in the justness of his logical 
views, so far as the phenomena of the material universe 
are concerned—and, in general, in those literary qualities 
and attainments, of which the bulk of mankind either are, 
or think themselves best qualified, to form an estimate. 
The reputation of Gassendi, accordingly, seems to have 
been at its height in his own lifetime’; that of Descartes 
made but little progress, till a considerable time after his 
death. 

The comparative justness of Gassendi’s views in natural 
philosophy, may be partly, perhaps chiefly, ascribed to 
his diligent study of Bacon’s works; which Descartes (if 


\ 


1 See Note P. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


171 


he ever read them,) has nowhere alluded to in his writ¬ 
ings. This extraordinary circumstance in the character 
of Descartes, is the more unaccountable, that not only Gas¬ 
sendi, but some of his other correspondents, repeatedly speak 
of Bacon, in terms, which one should think could scarcely 
have failed to induce him to satisfy his own mind whether their 
encomiums were well or ill founded. One of these, while 
he contents himself, from very obvious feelings of delicacy, 
with mentioning the Chancellor of England, as the person 
who, before the time of Descartes , had entertained the 
justest notions about the method of prosecuting physical 
inquiries, takes occasion, in the same letter, to present him,' 
in the form of a friendly admonition from himself, with the 
following admirable summary of the instauratio magna. 
“ To all this it must be added, that no architect, however 
skilful, can raise an edifice, unless he be provided with 
proper materials. In like manner, your method , supposing 
it to be perfect, can never advance you a single step in 
the explanation of natural causes, unless you are in pos¬ 
session of the facts necessary for determining their effects. 
They who, without stirring from their libraries, attempt to 
discourse concerning the works of nature, may indeed tell 
us what sort of world they would have made, if God had 
committed that task to their ingenuity ; but, without a 
wisdom truly divine, it is impossible, for them to form an 
idea of the universe, at ail approaching to that in the mind 
of its Creator. And, although your method promises 
every thing that can be expected from human genius, it 
does not, therefore, lay any claim to the art of divination ; 
but only boasts of deducing from the assumed data , all the 
truths which follow from them as legitimate consequences ; 
which data, can, in physicks, be nothing else but princi¬ 
ples previously established by experiment.” 1 In Gasseu 

1 See the first Epistle to Descartes, prefixed to his Treatise on 
the Passions. Amstel. 1664. 


172 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


(part I. $ II. 


di’s controversies with Descartes, the name of Bacon 
seems to be studiously introduced on various occasions, 
in a manner still better calculated to excite the curiosity of 
his antagonist; and in his historical review of logical sys¬ 
tems, th§ heroical attempt which gave birth to the Novum 
Organon is made the subject of a separate chapter, im¬ 
mediately preceding that which relates to the Metaphysi¬ 
cal Meditations of Descartes. 

The partiality of Gassendi for the Epicurean physicks, 
if not originally imbibed from Bacon, must have been 
powerfully encouraged by the favourable terms in which 
he always mentions the Atomick or Corpuscular theory. 
In its conformity to that luminous simplicity which every¬ 
where characterizes the operations of nature, this theory 
certainly possesses a decided superiority over all the other 
conjectures of the ancient philosophers concerning the 
material universe ; and it reflects no small honour on the 
sagacity both of Bacon and of Gassendi, to have perceived 
so clearly the strong analogical presumption which this 
conformity afforded in its favour, prior to the unexpected 
lustre thrown upon it by the researches of the Newtonian 
school. With all his admiration, however, of the Epicu¬ 
rean physicks, Bacon nowhere shews the slightest lean¬ 
ing towards the metaphysical or ethical doctrines of the 
same sect; but, on the contrary, considered (and, I ap¬ 
prehend, rightly considered) the atomick theory as incom¬ 
parably more hostile to atheism, than the hypothesis of 
four mutable elements, and of one immutable fifth essence. 
In this last opinion, there is every reason to believe that 
Gassendi fully concurred ; more especially, as he w r as a 
zealous advocate for the investigation of final causes , even 
in inquiries strictly physical. At the same time, it can¬ 
not be denied, that, on many questions, both of Metaphy- 
sicks and of Ethicks, this very learned theologian (one of 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


173 


the most orthodox, professedly , of whom the Catholick 
church has to boast,) carried his veneration for the autho¬ 
rity ot Epicurus to a degree bordering on weakness and 
servility ; and although, on such occasions, he is at the 
utmost pains to guard his readers against the dangerous 
conclusions commonly ascribed to his master, he has 
nevertheless retained more than enough of his system to 
give a plausible colour to a very general suspicion, that 
he secretly adopted more of it than he chose to avow. 

As Gassendi’s attachment to the physical doctrines of 
.Epicurus, predisposed him to give an easier reception than 
he might otherwise have done to his opinions in Metaphy- 
sicks and in Ethicks, so his unqualified contempt for the 
hypothesis of the Vortices, seems to have created in his 
mind an undue prejudice against the speculations of Des¬ 
cartes on all other subjects. His objections to the argu¬ 
ment by which Descartes has so triumphantly established 
the distinction between Mind and Matter, as separate and 
heterogeneous objects of human knowledge, must now ap¬ 
pear, to every person capable of forming a judgment upon 
the question, altogether frivolous and puerile ; amounting 
to nothing more than this, that all our knowledge is receiv¬ 
ed by the channel of the external senses,—insomuch, that 
there is not a single object of the understanding which 
may not be ultimately analyzed into sensible images; and 
of consequence, that when Descartes proposed to abstract 
from these images in studying the mind, he rejected the 
only materials out of which it is possible for our faculties 
to rear any superstructure. The sum of the whole matter 
is (to use his own language,) that “ there is no real distinc¬ 
tion between imagination and intellection meaning, by 
the former of these words, the power which the mind pos¬ 
sesses of representing to itself the material objects and 
qualities it has previously perceived. It is evident, that 


J74 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. § ijr. 


this conclusion coincides exactly with the tenets inculcated in 
England at the same period by his friend Hobbes, 1 as well 
as with those revived at a latter period by Diderot, Horne 
Tooke, and many other writers, both French and English, 
who, while they were only repeating the exploded dogmas 
of Epicurus, fancied they were pursuing, with miraculous 
success, the new path struck out by the genius of Locke. 

It is worthy of remark, that the argument employed by 
Gassendi against Descartes, is copied almost verbatim 
from his own version of the account given by Diogenes Laer¬ 
tius of the sources of our knowledge, according to the 
principles of the Epicurean philosophy ; 2 —so very little 
is there of novelty in the consequences deduced by mo¬ 
dern materialists from the scholastick proposition, Nihil est 
in intellectu quod non fuit prius in sensu. The same 
doctrine is very concisely and explicitly stated in a max¬ 
im formerly quoted from Montaigne, that “ the senses are 
the beginning and end of all our knowledge —a maxim 
which Montaigne learned from his oracle Raymond de 
Sebonde ;—which, by the present race of French philoso¬ 
phers, is almost universally supposed to be sanctioned by 
the authority of Locke ;—and which, if true, would at 
once cut up by the roots, not only all metaphysicks, but all 
ethicks, and all religion, both natural and revealed. It is 
accordingly with this very maxim that Mamdae du Def- 

1 The affection of Gassendi for Hobbes, and his esteem for 
his writings, are mentioned in very strong terms by Sorbiere. 
“ Thomas Hobbius Gassendo charissimus, cujus libellum De 
Corpore paucis ante obitum mensibus accipiens, osculatus est 
subjungens, mole quidern parvus est iste liber , verum totus , id 
opinor, medulla scatct /” (Sorberii Pnf.) Gassendi’s admiration 
of Hobbes’ Treatise De Give, was equally warm; as we learn 
from a letter of his to Sorbiere, prefixed to that work. 

3 Compare Gassendi Opera , Tom. Ill, p. 300, 301 ; and Tom, 
V, p. 12. 


CHAP. Il.J 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


175 


fand (in a letter which rivals any thing that the fancy of 
Moliere has conceived in his Femmes Savantes) assails 
Voltaire for his imbecility in attempting a reply to an 
atheistical book then recently published. In justice to 
this celebrated lady, I shall transcribe part of it in her 
own words, as a precious and authentick document of the 
philosophical tone affected by the higher orders in France, 
during the reign of Louis XV. 

“ J’entends parler d’une refutation d’un certain livre, 
{Systeme de la Nature.) Je voudrois Pavoir. Je m’en 
tiens a connoftre ce Uvre par vous. Toutes refutations de 
systeme doivent etre bonnes, surtout quand c’est vous qui 
les faites. Mais, mon cher Voltaire, ne vous ennuyez-vous 
pas de tous les raisonnemens metaphysiques sur les mati- 
eres inintelligibles. Peut-on donner des idbes, ou peut-on 
en admettre d’autres que celles que nous recevons par nos 
sens V 1 —If the Senses be the beginning and end of all 
our knowledge, the inference here pointed at is quite ir¬ 
resistible. 1 

A learned and profound writer has lately complained of 
the injustice done by the present age to Gassendi; in 
whose works, be asserts, may be found the whole of the 
doctrine commonly ascribed to Locke concerning the 
origin of our knowledge . 2 The remark is certainly just, 

1 Notwithstanding the evidence (according to my judgment) 
of this conclusion, I trust it will not be supposed that I impute 
the slightest bias in its favour to the generality of those who 
have adopted the premises. If an author is to be held charge¬ 
able with all the consequences logically deducible from his opi¬ 
nions, who can hope to escape censure ? And, in the present 
instance, how few are there among Montaigne’s disciples, who 
have ever reflected for a moment on the real meaning and im¬ 
port of the proverbial maxim :n question ! 

2 “ Gassendi fut le premier auteur de la nouvelle philosophic 
de f esprit humain; car il est terns de lui rendre, a cet egard, 
line justice qu’il n’a presque jamais obtenue de ses propres com- 


176 


FIRST DISSERTATION'. 


[part I. $ II. 


if restricted to Locke’s doctrine as interpreted by the 
greater part of philosophers on the Continent; but it is 
very wide of the truth, if applied to if as now explained 
and modified by the most iute ligent of his disciples in this 
country. The main scope, indeed, of Gassendi’s argu¬ 
ment against Descartes, is to materialize that class of our 
ideas which the Lockists as well as the Cartesians consider 
as the exclusive objects of the power of refection ; and 
to shew that these ideas are all ultimately resolvable into 
images or conceptions borrowed from things external. It 
is not, therefore, what is sound and valuable in this part 
of Locke’s system, but the errours grafted on it in the 
comments of some of his followers, that can justly be said 
to have been borrowed from Gassendi. Nor has Gassendi 
the merit of originality, even in these errours ; for scarcely 
a remark on the subject occurs in his works, but what is 
copied from the accounts transmitted to us of the Epicu¬ 
rean metaphysicks. 

Unfortunately for Descartes, while he so clearly per¬ 
ceived that the origin of those ideas which are the most 
interesting to human happiness, could not be traced to our 
external senses, he had the weakness, instead of stating 
this fundamental proposition in plain and precise terms, to 
attempt an explanation of it by the extravagant hypothe¬ 
sis of innate ideas . This hypothesis gave Gassendi great 
advantages over him, in the management of their contro¬ 
versy ; while the subsequent adoption of Gassendi’s rea¬ 
sonings against it by Locke, has led to a very general but 
ill founded belief, that the latter, as well as the former, 

patriotes. II est tres singulier en effet, qu’en parlant de la nou- 
velle philosophic de f esprit humain, nous disions toujours, la 
philosophic de Locke. D’Alembert et Condillac ont autorise 
eette expression, en rapportant fun et 1’autre a Locke exclusive- 
ment, la gloire de cette invention,” &c. &c. De Gerando , Hist . 
Comp, des Systemes, Tome I, p. 301. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


177 


rejected, along with the doctrine of innate ideas , the vari¬ 
ous important and well ascertained truths combined with it 
in the Cartesian system. 

The hypothetical language afterwards introduced by 
Leibnitz concerning the human soul (which he sometimes 
calls a living mirror of the nniverse y and sometimes sup¬ 
poses to contain within itself the seeds of that knowledge 
which is gradually unfolded in the progressive exercise of 
its faculties,) is another impotent attempt to explain a mys¬ 
tery unfathomable by human reason. The same remark 
may be extended to some of Plato’s reveries on this ques¬ 
tion, more particularly to his supposition, that those ideas 
which cannot be traced to any of our external senses, 
were acquired by the soul in its state of preexistence. In 
all of these theories, as well as in that of Descartes, the 
cardinal truth is assumed as indisputable, that the Senses 
are not the only sources of human knowledge ; nor is any 
thing wanting to render them correctly logical, but the 
statement of this truth as an ultimate fact (or at least as a 
fact hitherto unexplained) in our intellectual frame. 

It is very justly observed by Mr. Hume, with respect 
to Sir Isaac Newton, that “ while he seemed to draw off 
the veil from some of the mysteries of nature, he showed, 
at the same time, the imperfections of the mechanical 
philosophy, and thereby restored her ultimate secrets to 
that obscurity in which they ever did, and ever will re¬ 
main.” 1 When the justness of this remark shall be as 
universally acknowledged in the science of Mind as it now 
is in Natural Philosophy, we may reasonably expect that 
an end will be put to those idle controversies which have so 
long diverted the attention of Metaphysicians from the 
proper objects of their studies. 


History of Great Britain , chap. Ixxi. 


178 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


£part i. f Uv 


The text of Scripture, prefixed by Dr. Reid as a motto 
to his Inquiry , conveys, in a few words, the result of his 
own modest and truly philosophical speculations on the 
origin of our knowledge, and expresses this result in terms 
strictly analogous to those in which Newton speaks of the 
law of gravitation :—“ The inspiration of the Almighty 
hath given them understanding.” Let our researches 
concerning the development of the Mind, and the occasions 
on which its various notions are first formed, be carried 
back ever so far towards the commencement of its history, 
in this humble confession of human ignorance they must 
terminate at last. 

I have dwelt thus long on the writings of Gassendi, much 
less from my own idea of their merits, than out of respect 
to an author, in whose footsteps Locke has frequently con¬ 
descended to tread. The epigrammatick encomium be¬ 
stowed on him by Gibbon, who calls him “ le meilleur philo- 
sophe des litterateurs, et le meilleur litterateur des philo- 
sophes,” appears to me quite extravagant . 1 His learning, 
indeed, was at once vast and accurate ; and, as a philoso¬ 
pher, he is justly entitled to the praise of being one of the 
first who entered thoroughly into the spirit of the Baconian 
logick. But his inventive powers, which were probably 
not of the highest order, seem to have been either dissi¬ 
pated amidst the multiplicity of his literary pursuits, or 
Said asleep by his indefatigable labours, as a Commentator 
and a Compiler. From a writer of this class, new lights 
were not to be expected in the study of the Human Mind ; 
and accordingly, here he has done little or nothing, but to 
revive and to repeat over the doctrines of the old Epicu¬ 
reans. His works amount to six large volumes in folio; 
but the substance of them might be compressed into a 


Essai sur VEtude de la Litterature . 


CHir. u.J 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


179 


much smaller compass, without any diminution of their 
value. 

In one respect Gassendi had certainly a great advantage 
over his antagonists—the good humour which never for¬ 
sook him in the heat of a philosophical argument. The 
comparative indifference with which he regarded most of 
the points at issue between them, was perhaps the chief 
cause of that command of temper so uniformly displayed 
in all his controversies, and so remarkably contrasted with 
the constitutional irritability of Descartes. Even the faith 
of Gassendi in his own favourite master, Epicurus, does 
not seem to have been very strong or dogmatical, if it be 
true that he was accustomed to allege, as the chief ground 
of his preferring the Epicurean physicks, to the theory of 
the Vortices, “ that chimera for chimera, he could not help 
feeling some partiality for that which was two thousand 
years older than the other .” 1 

About twenty years after the death of Gassendi (who 
did not long survive Descartes,) Malebranche entered upon 
his philosophical career. The earlier part of his life had, 
by the advice of some of his preceptors, been devoted 
to the study of ecclesiastical history, and of the learned 
languages; for neither of which pursuits does he seem to 
have felt that marked predilection which afforded any pro¬ 
mise of future eminence. At length, in the twenty-fifth 
year of his age, he accidentally met with Descartes’ Trea¬ 
tise on Man , which opened to him at once a new world, 
and awakened him to a consciousness of powers, till then 
unsuspected either by himself or by others. Fontenelle 
has given a lively picture of the enthusiastick ardour with 
which Malebranche first read this performance ; and de¬ 
scribes its effects on his nervous system as sometimes so 


1 See Note Q. 


180 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[PAKT 1. $ H. 


great, that he was forced to lay aside the book till the pal¬ 
pitation of his heart had subsided. 

It was only ten years after this occurrence when he pub¬ 
lished The Search after Truth ; a work which, whatever 
judgment may now be passed on its philosophical merits, 
will always form an interesting study to readers of taste, 
and a useful one to students of human nature. Few books 
can be mentioned, combining, in so great a degree, the ut¬ 
most depth and abstraction of thought, with the most pleas¬ 
ing sallies of imagination and eloquence ; and none, where 
they who delight in the observation of intellectual charac¬ 
ter may find more ample illustrations, both of the strength 
and weakness of the human understanding. It is a singular 
feature in the history of Malebranche, that, notwithstand¬ 
ing the poetical colouring which adds so much animation 
and grace to his style, he never could read, without dis¬ 
gust, a page of the finest verses ; 1 and that, although Imagi¬ 
nation was manifestly the predominant ingredient in the 
composition of his own genius, the most elaborate passages 
in his works are those where he inveighs against this treach¬ 
erous faculty, as the prolifick parent of our most fatal delu¬ 
sions . 2 

In addition to the errours, more or less incident to all men, 
from the unresisted sway of imagination during the infancy 

1 Bayle.—Fontenelie.—D’ Alembert. 

2 In one of his arguments on this head, Malebranche refers to 
the remarks previously made on the same subject by an English 
philosopher, who, like himself, has more than once taken occa¬ 
sion, while warning his readers against the undue influence of 
imagination over the judgment, to exemplify the boundless fer¬ 
tility and originality of his own. The following allusion of 
Bacon’s, quoted by Malebranche, is eminently apposite and hap¬ 
py : “ Omnes perceptions tarn sensus quam mentis sunt ex an- 
alogia hominis, non ex analogia universi: Estque intellects hu- 
manus instar speculi inaequalis ad radios rerum, qui suam naturam 
naturae rerum immiscet, eamque distorquet et inficit.” 


cHAt*. n.^ 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


181 


of reason, Malebranche bad, in his own case, to struggle 
with all the prejudices connected with the peculiar dogmas 
of the Roman Catholick faith. Unfortunately, too, he every 
where discovers a strong disposition to blend his theology 
and his metaphysicks together; availing himself of the one 
as an auxiliary to the other, wherever, in either science, his 
ingenuity fails him in establishing a favourite conclusion. 
To this cause is chiefly to be ascribed the little attention 
now paid to a writer formerly so universally admired, and, 
in point of fact, the indisputable author of some of the most 
refined speculations claimed by the theorists of the eigh¬ 
teenth century. As for those mystical controversies about 
Grace with Anthony Arnauld, on which he wasted so much 
of his genius, they have long sunk into utter oblivion ; nor 
should I have here revived the recollection of them, were 
it not for the authentick record they furnish of the passive 
bondage' in which, little more than a hundred years ago, 
two of the most powerful minds of that memorable period 
were held by a creed, renounced, at the Reformation, by 
all the Protestant countries of Europe ; and the fruitful 
source, wherever it has been retained, of other prejudices, 
not less to be lamented, of an opposite description . 1 

1 Of this disposition to blend theological dogmas with philoso¬ 
phical discussions, Malebranche was so little conscious in himself, 
that he h is seriously warned his readers against it, by quoting 
an aphorism of Bacon’s, peculiarly applicable to his own writ¬ 
ings: M Ex divinorum et humanorum malesana admixtione non 
solum educitur philosojdiia phantastica, sed etiam religio haereti- 
ca. Itaque salutare admodum est si mente sobria fidei tantum 
dentur quae fidei sunt ” In transcribing these words, it is amus¬ 
ing to observe, that Malebranche has slily suppressed the name 
of the author from whom they are borrowed; manifestly from 
an unwillingness to weaken their effect, by the suspicious autho¬ 
rity of a philosopher not in communion with the Church of Rome. 
Recherche de la Vbrit&, Liv. ii, chap. ix. 

Dr. Reid, proceeding on the supposition that Malebranche 
was a Jesuit, has ascribed to the antipathy between this order 

24 


182 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. [ 13, . 


When Malebranche touches on questions not positively 
decided by the church, he exhibits a remarkable boldness 
and freedom of inquiry ; setting at nought those human au¬ 
thorities which have so much weight with men of unen¬ 
lightened erudition; and sturdily opposing his own reason 
to the most inveterate prejudices of his age. His disbe¬ 
lief in the reality of sorcery, which, although cautiously ex¬ 
pressed, seems to have been complete, affords a decisive 
proof of the soundness of his judgment, where he conceiv¬ 
ed himself to have any latitude in exercising it. The fol¬ 
lowing sentences contain more good sense on the subject, 
than I recollect in any contemporary author. I shall quote 
them, as well as the other passages I may afterwards ex¬ 
tract from his writings, in his own words, to which it is sel¬ 
dom possible to do justice in an English version. 

“ Les hommes meme les plus sages se conduisent plutot 
par l’imagination des autres, je yeux dire par Popinion et 
par la coutume, que par les regies de la raison. Ainsi 
dans les lieux oil Pon brule les sorciers, on ne voit autre 
chose, parce que dans les lieux oil Pon les condamne au 
feu, on croit veritablement qu’ils Ie sont, et cette croyance 
se fortifie par les discours qu’on en tient. Que Pon cesse 
de les punir et qu’on les traite comme des fous, et Pon ver- 
ra qu’avec Ie terns ils ne seront plus sorciers ; parce que 
ceux qui ne le sont que par imagination, qui font certaine- 
raent le plus grand nombre, deviendront comme les autres 
hommes. 

“ C’est done avec raison que plusieurs Parlemens ne 
punissent point les sorciers : ils s’en trouve beaucoup moins 

and the Jansenists, the warmth displayed on both sides, in his 
disputes with Arnauld (Essays on the Int. Powers , p. 124 ;) but 
the fact is, that Malebranche belonged to the Congregation of the 
Oratory; a society much more nearly allied to the Jansenists 
than to the Jesuits; and honourably distinguished, since its first 
origin, by the moderation as well as learning of its members. 


CHAP. 11.} 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


183 


dans les terres de leur ressort: El l’envie, la haine, et la 
malice des mechans ne peuvent se servir de ce prctexte 
pour accabler les innocens.” 

How strikingly has the sagacity of these anticipations 
and reflections been verified, by the subsequent history of 
this popular superstition in our own country, and indeed in 
every other instance where the experiment recommended 
by Malebranche has been tried! Of this sagacity much 
must, no doubt, be ascribed to the native vigour of a mind 
struggling against and controlling early prejudices; but it 
must not be forgotten, that, notwithstanding his retired and 
monastick life, Malebranche had breathed the same air 
with the associates and friends of Descartes and of Gas¬ 
sendi; and that no philosopher seems ever to have been 
more deeply impressed with the truth of that golden maxim 
of Montaigne—“ 11 est bon de frotter etlirner notre cervelle 
contre celle d’autrui.” 

Another feature in the intellectual character of Male¬ 
branche, presenting an unexpected contrast to his powers 
of abstract meditation, is the attentive and discriminating 
eye with which he appears to have surveyed the habits 
and manners of the comparatively little circle around him ; 
and the delicate yet expressive touches with which he has 
marked and defined some of the nicest shades and varie¬ 
ties of genius. 1 2 To this branch of the Philosophy of Mind, 
not certainly the least important and interesting, he has con¬ 
tributed a greater number of original remarks than Locke 
himself ; 3 —since whose time, wilh the single exception of 

1 See among other passages, Rech. de la V&riti, Liv. ii, chap, 
ix. 

2 In one of Locke’s most noted remarks of this sort, he has been 

anticipated by Malebranche, on whose clear yet concise state¬ 
ment he does not seem to have thrown much new light by his 
very diffuse and wordy commentary. “ If in having our ideas 


184 FIRST DISSERTATION. [part I. $ ih 

Helvetius, hardly any attention has been paid to it, either 
by French or English metaphysicians. The same practi¬ 
cal knowledge of the human understanding, modified and 

in the memory ready at hand, consists quickness of parts; in 
this of having them unconfused, and being able nicely to distin¬ 
guish one thing from another, where there is but the least diffe¬ 
rence, consists, in a great measure, the exactness of judgment 
and clearness of reason, which is to be observed in one man 
above another. And hence, perhaps, may be given some reason 
of that common observation, that men who have a great deal of 
wit, and prompt memories, have not always the clearest judg¬ 
ment, or deepest reason. For Wit, lying most in the assemblage 
of ideas, and putting those together with quickness and variety, 
wherein can be found any resemblance or congruity, thereby to 
make up pleasant pictures, and agreeable visions in the fancy; 
Judgment, on the contrary, lies quite on the other side, in sepa¬ 
rating carefully, one from another, ideas wherein can be found 
the least difference, thereby to avoid being misled by similitude, 
and by affinity to take one thing for another.” Essay , &c . B. ii, 
c. xi, $ 2. 

“ II y a done des esprits de deux sortes. Les uns remarquent 
ais£ment les differences des choses, et ce sonl les bons esprits. 
Les autres imaginent et supposent de la ressemblance entr’elles, 
etce sont les esprits superficiels.” Rcch. de la Veril'e. Liv. ii. 
Secondc Partie, chap. ix. 

At a still earlier period, Bacon had pointed out the same car¬ 
dinal distinction in the intellectual characters of individuals. 

“ Maximum et velut radicale discrimen ingeniorum, quoad phi- 
losophiam et scientias, illud est; quod alia ingenia sint forliora 
et aptiora ad notandas rerum «differentius; alia, ad notandas re¬ 
rum similitudines. Ingenia enim constantia et acuta, figere con- 
templationes, et morari, et haerere in omni subtilitate differentia- 
rum possunt. Ingenia autem sublimia, et discursiva, etiam tenu- 
issimas et catholicas rerum similitudines et cognoscunt, et com- 
ponunt. Utrumque autem ingenium facile labitur in excessum, 
prensando aut gradus rerum, aut umbras.” 

That strain I heard was of a higher mood i It is evident, that 
Bacon has here seized, in its most general form, the very impor¬ 
tant truth perceived by his two ingenious successors in particular 
cases. Wit, which Locke contrasts with judgment, is only one of 
the various talents connected with what Bacon calls the discur¬ 
sive genius ; and indeed, a talent very subordinate in dignity to 
most of the others. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


185 


diversified, as we every where see it, by education and ex¬ 
ternal circumstances, is occasionally discovered by his 
very able antagonist Arnauld ; affording, in both cases, a 
satisfactory proof, that the narrowest field of experience 
may disclose to a superiour mind those refined and compre¬ 
hensive results, which common observers are forced to col¬ 
lect from an extensive and varied commerce with the 
world. 

In some of Malebranche’s incidental strictures on men 
and manners, there is a lightness of style and fineness of 
tact , which one would scarcely have expected from the 
mystical divine, who believed that he saw all things in 
God. Who would suppose that the following paragraph 
forms part of a profound argument on the influence of the 
external senses over the human intellect ? 

“ Si par exemple, celui qui parle s’enonce avec facility 
s’il garde une mesure agreable dans ses periodes, s’il a fair 
d’un honnSte homme et d’un hoinme d’esprif, si c’est une 
personne de qualite, s’il estsuivi d’un grand train, s’il parle 
avec autorite et avec gravite, si les autres 1’ecoutent avec 
respect et en silence, s’il a quelque reputation, et quel- 
que commerce avec les esprits du premier ordre, enfin, 
s’il est assez heureux pour plaire, oil pour efre estime, il 
aura raison dans tout ce qu’il avancera; et il n’y aura pas 
jusqu’a son collet et a ses manchettes, quine prouvent quel* 
que chose.” 1 

1 1 shall indulge myself only in one other citation from Male- 
bra nche, which 1 select partly on account of the curious extract 
it contains from an English publication long since forgotten in 
this country; and partly as a proof that this learned and pious 
father was not altogether insensible to the ludicrous. 

“ Un illustre entre les Scavans, qui a fonde des chaires de 
Geometrie et d’Astronomie dans l’Universite d’Oxford,* com- 

* Sir Henry Savile. The work here referred to is a 4to volume, en¬ 
titled. Prelectiones xiii. in Principivm Elementorum Evclidis , Oxo 
niae hahitae, Anno, 1620 


186 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[/ART 1. $ II. 


In his philosophical capacity, Malebranche is to be con¬ 
sidered in two points of view: 1, Asa commentator on 
Descartes ; and, 2, As the author of some conclusions from 
the Cartesian principles, not perceived or not avowed by 
his predecessors of the same school. 

mence un livre, qu’il s’est a vise de faire sur les huit premieres 
propositions d’Euclide, par ces paroles. Consilium mcum est, au- 
ditores, si vires et valetudo stiffecerint, explicare definitiones, petitio- 
nes, communes sententias , et octo priores propositions primi libri 
elementorum , caetera post me venientibus relinqucre: et it le fin it 
par celles-ci: Exsolvi, per Dei gratiam , Domini audit ores, promis- 
sum, liberavi falem meam , explicavi pro modulo mco definitione$ y 
petitions, communes sententias, et octo priores propositions elemen¬ 
torum Euclidis. Hie annisfessus cyclos artemque repono. Succe- 
dent in hoc munus alii fortasse magis vegeto cor pore et vivido inge- 
nio. II rie faut pas une heure a un esprit mediocre, pour appren- 
dre par lui meme, ou par le secours du plus petit geometre qu’il 
y ait, les definitions, demandes, axiomes, et les huit premieres 
propositions d’Euclide: et voici un auteur qui parle de cette en- 
treprise, comme de quekjHe chose de fort grand, et de fort diffi¬ 
cile. II a peur que les forces lui manquent; Si vires et valetudo 
suffccerint. II laisse a ses successeurs a pousser ces choses: cae¬ 
tera post me venientibus relinquere. II remercie Dieu de ce que, 
par une grace particuliere, il a execute ce qu’il avoit promis : ex¬ 
solvi, per Dei gratiam, promissum, liberavi fidem meam , explicavi 
pro modulo mco. Quoi? la quadrature du cercle ? la duplication 
du cube ? Ce grand homme a explique pro modulo suo, les defini¬ 
tions, les demandes, les axiomes, et les huit premieres proposi¬ 
tions du premier livre des Elcmens d’Euclide. Peut-fitre qu’entre 
ceux qui lui succederont, il s’en trouvera qui auront plus de sante, 
et plus de force que lui pour continuer ce bel ouvrage : Succedent in 
hoc munus alii fortasse magis vegeto corpore , et vivido ingenio . 
Mais pour lui il est terns qu’il se repose; hie annis fessus cyclos 
artemque repono 

After reading the above passage, it is impossible to avoid re¬ 
flecting, with satisfaction, ou the effect which the progress of phi¬ 
losophy has since had, in removing those obstacles to the acqui¬ 
sition of useful knowledge, which were created by the pedantick 
taste prevalent two centuries ago. What a contrast to a quarto 
commentary on the definitions, postulates, axioms, and first eight 
propositions of Euclid’s First Book, is presented by Condorcet’s 
estimate of the time now sufficient to conduct a student to the 
highest branches of mathematicks ! “ Dans le siecle dernier, il 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRSt DISSERTATION. 


ia? 

1. I have already taken notice of Malebrancbe’s com¬ 
ments on the Cartesian doctrine concerning the sensible , 
or, as they are now more commonly called, the secondary 
qualities of matter. The same fulness and happiness of 
illustration are every where else to be found in his elucida¬ 
tions of his master’s system ; to the popularity of which he 
certainly contributed greatly by the liveliness of his fancy, 
and the charms of his composition. Even in this part of 
his writings, he always preserves the air of an original 
thinker ; and, while pursuing the same path with Descar¬ 
tes, seems rather to have accidentally struck into it from 
his own casual choice, than to have selected it out of any 
deference for the judgment of another. Perhaps it may 
be doubted, if it is not on such occasions, that the inven¬ 
tive powers of his genius, by being somewhat restrained 
and guided in their aim, are most vigorously and most 
usefully displayed. 

In confirmation of this last remark, I shall only mention, 
by way of examples, his comments on the Cartesian theory 
of Vision,—more especially on that part of it which relates 
to our experimental estimates of the distances and magni¬ 
tudes of objects; and his admirable illustration of the er- 
rours to which we are liable from the illusions of sense, of 
imagination, and of the passions. In his physiological re¬ 
veries on the union of soul and body, he wanders, like 
his master, in the dark, from the total want of facts as a 

suffisoit de quelques annees d’etude pour savoir tout ce qu’Archi- 
mede et Hipparque avoient pu connoitre; et aujourd’hui deux 
annees de l’enseignement d’un professeur vont au dela de ce que 
savoient Leibnitz ou Newton.” (Sur Vlnstruction Publiquc.) In 
this particular science, I am aware that much is to be ascribed 
to the subsequent invention of new and more general methods ; 
but, I apprehend, not a little also to the improvements gradually 
suggested by experience, in what Bacon calls the troditivc part 
of logick. 


IBS 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[PAHT 1. § II. 


foundation for his reasonings ; but even here his genius has 
had no inconsiderable influence on the inquiries of later 
writers. The fundamental principle of Hartley is most 
explicitly stated in The Search after Truth ; 1 as well as a 
hypothesis concerning the nature of habits, which, rash 
and unwarranted as it must now appear to every novice in 
science, was no! thought unworthy of adoption in The Es¬ 
say on Human UnderstandingS 

1 “ Toutes nos differentes perceptions sont attachees aux diffe- 
rens changemens qui arriveut dans les fibres de la partie princi- 
pale du eerveau dans laquelle fame reside plus particulierement.” 

( Rech. de la Vtrite , Liv. ii, chap, v.) These changes in the 
fibres of the brain are commonly called by Malebranche cbranle- 
mens ; —a word which is frequently rendered by his old English 
translator (Taylor) vibrations. “ La seconde chose,*’ says Male¬ 
branche, “ qui se trouve dans chacune des sensations, est Ccbranle- 
ment des fibres de nos nerfs, qui se communique jusqu’au cer- 
veauthus translated by Taylor: “ The second thing that oc¬ 
curs in every sensation is the vibration of the fibres of our nerves, 
which is communicated to the brain.” (Liv. i, chap, xii.) Nor 
was the theory of association overlooked by Malebranche. See, 
in particular, the third chapter of his second book, entitled, Dc 
la liaison mutuelle des idees dc Vesprit, et des traces du eerveau ; et 
de la liaison mutuelle des traces avee les traces , et des idees avec les 
idees. • 

a “ Mais afin de suivre notre explication, 11 faut remarquer que 
les esprits ne trouvent pas toujours les chemins, par ou ils doivent 
passer, assez ou verts et assez fibres ; et que cela fait qui nous 
avons de la difficulty a remuer, par exemple, les doigts avec la 
vitesse qui est necessaire pour jouer des instrumens de musique, 
ou les muscles qui servent a la prononciation, pour prononcer 
les mots d’une langue etrangere : Mais que peu-a-peu les esprits 
animaux par leur cours continuel ouvreni et applanisscnt ces chc- 
mins , en sorte qu’avec le tem3 ils n’y trouvent plus de resistance. 
Car e’est dans cette facilite que les esprits animaux ont de pas¬ 
ser dans les membres de notre corps, que consistent les habitu¬ 
des.” Rech. de la Vtrite , Liv. ii, chap. v. 

“ Habits seem to be but trains of motion in the animal spirits, 
which, once set a-going, continue in the same steps they hav*e 
been used to, which, by often treading , arc worn into a smooth 
path Locke, Book ii, chap, xxxiii, l 6. 


CHAP. 11.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


189 


2, Among the opinions which chiefly characterize the 
system of Malebranche, the leading one is, that the catises 
w hich it is the aim of philosophy to investigate are only 
occasional causes ; and that the Deity is himself the effi¬ 
cient and the immediate cause of every effect in the uni¬ 
verse. 1 From this single principle, the greater part of his 
distinguishing doctrines may be easily deduced, as obvious 
corollaries. 

That we are completely ignorant of the manner in which 
physical causes and effects are connected, and that all our 
knowledge concerning them amounts merely to a perception 
of constant conjunction , had been before remarked by 
Hobbes, and more fully shown by Glanville in his Scepsis 
Scientijica. Malebranche, however, has treated the same 
argument much more profoundly and ably than any of his 
predecessors, and has, indeed, anticipated Hume in some 
of the most ingenious reasonings contained in his Essay on 
Necessary Connexion . From these data , it was not un¬ 
natural for his pious mind to conclude, that what are com 
monly called second causes have no existence; and that the 
Divine power, incessantly and universally exerted, is, in 
truth, the connecting link of all the phenomena of nature. 
It is obvious, that, in this conclusion, he went farther than 
his premises warranted ; for, although no necessary connex¬ 
ions among physical events can be traced by our faculties, 
it does not therefore follow that such connexions are im¬ 
possible. The only sound inference was, that the laws of 
nature are to be discovered, not , as the ancients supposed, 

2 “ Afin qu’on ne puisse plus douter de la faussete de cette 
miserable philosophic, il est necessaire de prouver qu’il n’y a 
qu’un vrai Dieu, parce qu’il n’y a qu’une vraie cause; que la na¬ 
ture ou la force de chaque chose n’est que la volonte de Dieu: 
que toutes les causes nature!les ne sont point de veritable causes, 
mais seulement des causes occasionelles.” Dc la Vkritc, Livre 
vi. 2de Partie, chap. iii. 


190 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. $ a. 


by a priori reasonings from causes to effects, but by expe¬ 
rience and observation. It is but justice to Malebranche 
to own, that he was one of the first who placed in a just 
and strong light this fundamental principle of the inductive 
Jogick. 

On the other hand, the objections to the theory of occa¬ 
sional causes , chiefly insisted on by Malebranche’s oppo¬ 
nents, were far from satisfactory. By some it was alleg¬ 
ed, that it ascribed every event to a miraculous interposi¬ 
tion of the Deity ; as if this objection were not directly met 
by the general and constant laws every where manifested 
to our senses,—in a departure from which laws, the very 
essence of a miracle consists. Nor was it more to the pur¬ 
pose to contend, that the beauty and perfection of the uni¬ 
verse were degraded by excluding the idea of mechanism ; 
the whole of this argument turning, as is manifest, upon 
an application to Omnipotence of ideas borrowed from the 
limited sphere of human power. 1 As to the study of natu¬ 
ral philosophy, it is plainly not at all affected by the hypo¬ 
thesis in question ; as the investigation and generalization of 
the laws of nature, which are its only proper objects, pre¬ 
sent exactly the same field to our curiosity, whether we 
suppose these laws to be the immediate effects of the Di- 

1 This objection, frivolous as it is, was strongly urged by Mr. 
Boyle ( Inquiry into the Vulgar Idea concerning Nature ,) and has 
been copied from him by Mr. Hume, Lord Karnes, and many 
other writers. Mr. HumeT words are these: “It argues more 
wisdom to contrive at first the fabrick of the world with such per¬ 
fect foresight, that, of itself, and by its proper operation, it may 
serve all the purposes of providence, than if the great Creator 
were obliged every moment to adjust its parts, and animate by 
his breath all the wheels of that stupendous machine.” ( Essay 
on the Idea of necessary Connexion.) An observation somewhat 
similar occurs in the Treatise De Mundo , commonly ascribed to 
Aristotle. 


chap. II.] FIRST DISSERTATION. 191 

vine agency, or the effects of second causes , placed beyond 
the reach of our faculties. 1 

Such, however, were the chief reasonings opposed to 
Malebranche by Leibnitz, in order to prepare the way for 
the system of Preestablished Harmony; a system more 
nearly allied to that of occasional causes than its author 
seems to have suspected, and encumbered with every solid 
difficulty connected with the other. 

From the theory of occasional causes , it is easy to trace 
the process which led Malebranche to conclude, that we see 
all things in God. The same arguments which convinced 
him, that the Deity carries into execution every volition 
of the mind, in the movements of the body, could not fail 
to suggest, as a farther consequence, that every perception 
of the mind in the immediate effect of the divine illumina 
tion. As to the manner in which this illumination is ac¬ 
complished, the extraordinary hypothesis adopted by Male¬ 
branche was forced upon him, by the opinion then univer- 


1 In speaking of the theory of occasional causes , Mr. Hume has 
committed a historical mistake, which it may be proper to rectify. 
“ Malebranche,” lie observes, “ and other Cartesians, made the 
doctrine of the universal and sole efficacy of the Deity, the foun¬ 
dation of all their philosophy. It had , however , no authority in 
England. Locke, Clarke, and Cudworth, never so much as take 
notice of it, but suppose all along that matter has a real, though 
subordinate and derived power.” Hume's Essays , vol. II, p. 475. 
edit, of 1784. 

Mr. Hume was probably led to connect, in this last sentence, 
the name of Clarke with those of Locke and Cudworth, by 
taking for granted that his metaphysical opinions agreed exactly 
with those commonly ascribed to Sir Isaac Newton. In fact, on 
the point now in question, his creed was the same with that of 
Malebranche. The following sentence is very nearly a transla¬ 
tion of a passage already quoted from the latter. “ The course 
of nature, truly and properly speaking, is nothing but the will of 
God producing certain effects in a continued, regular, constant, 
and uniform manner.” Clarke's Works , vol. II, p. 698. fol. ed. 


192 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. 5 ii. 


sally held, that the immediate objects of our perceptions 
are not things external, but their ideas or images. The 
only possible expedient for reconciling these two articles 
of his creed, was to transfer the seat of our ideas from our 
own minds to that of the Creator. 1 

In this theory of Melabranche, there is undoubtedly, 
as Bayle has remarked, 2 an approach to some speculations 
of the latter Platonists; but there is a much closer coinci¬ 
dence between it and the system of those Hindoo philoso¬ 
phers, who (according to Sir William Jones) ‘‘believed 
that the whole creation was rather an energy than a work ; 
by which the infinite Mind, who is present at all times, and 
in all places, exhibits to his creatures a set of perceptions, 
like a wonderful picture, or piece of musick, always varied, 
yet always uniform.” 3 

In some of Malebranche’s reasonings upon this subject, 
he has struck into the same train of thought which was 
afterwards pursued by Berkeley (an author to whom he bore 
a very strong resemblance in some of the most character- 
istical features of his genius ;) and, had he not been restrain¬ 
ed by religious scruples, he would, in all probability, have 
asserted, not less confidently than his successor, that the 
existence of matter was demonstrably inconsistent with the 
principles then universally admitted by philosophers. 
But this conclusion Malebranche rejects, as not reconcila¬ 
ble with the words of Scripture, that “ in the beginning 
God created the heavens and the earth.” “ La foi m’ap- 

1 We are indebted to La Harpe for the preservation of an epi- 
grammatick line ( un vers fort plaisant , as he justly calls it) on 
this celebrated hypothesis : “Lai, qai voit tout en Dim, ny veit-il 
pas qu’il est fou? —C’etoit au moins,” La Harpe adds, “ un fou 
qui avoit beaucoup d’esprit.” 

8 See his Dictionary, article Amelins . 

3 Introduction to a Translation of some Hindoo verses. 


CHAP. Il.J 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


193 


prend que Dieu a cr€e le ciel et la terre. Elle m’apprend 
que l’Ecriture est un livre divin. Et ce livre ou son ap- 
parence me dit nettement et positivement, qu’il y a mille et 
miile creatures. Done voila toutes mes apparences chan- 
gees en realites. Ilya des corps; cela est demontre en 
toute rigueur la foy supposee.” 1 

In reflecting on the repeated reproduction of these, and 
other ancient paradoxes, by modern authors, whom it would 
be highly unjust to accuse of plagiarism ;—still more, in 
reflecting on the affinity of some of our most refined theories 
to the popular belief in a remote quarter of the globe, one 
is almost tempted to suppose, that human invention is limit¬ 
ed, like a barrel-organ, to a specifick number of tunes. But 
is it not a fairer inference, that the province of pure Ima¬ 
gination, unbounded as it may at first appear, is narrow, 
when compared with the regions opened by truth and nature 
to our powers of observation and reasoning? 2 Prior to the 
time of Bacon, the physical systems of the learned perform¬ 
ed their periodical revolutions in orbits as small as the me¬ 
taphysical hypothesis of their successors ; and yet, who 

1 Entretiens sur la Metaphysique, p. 207. 

The celebrated doubt of Descartes concerning all truths hut 
the existence of his own mind (it cannot be too often repeated,) 
was the real source, not only of the inconsistency of Male- 
branche on this head, hut of the chief metaphysical puzzles after¬ 
wards started by Berkeley and Hume. The illogical transition 
by which he attempted to pass from this first principle to other 
truths, was early remarked by some of his own followers, who 
were accordingly led to conclude, that no man can have full as¬ 
surance of any thing but of his own individual existence. If the 
fundamental doubt of Descartes be admitted as reasonable, the 
conclusion of these philosophers (who were distinguished by the 
name of Egoists ,) is unavoidable. 

a The limited number of fables, of humorous tales, and even of 
jests, which, it should seem, are in circulation over the face of 
the globe, might perhaps be alleged as an additional confirmation 
of this idea. 


194 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. § ii. 


would now set any bounds to our curiosity in the study 
of the material universe ? Is it reasonable to think, that the 
phenomena of the intellectual world are less various, or 
less marked with the signatures of Divine wisdom ? 

It forms an interesting circumstance in the history of the 
two memorable persons who have suggested these remarks, 
that they had once , and only tmce, the pleasure of a short 
interview. “ The conversation,” we are told, “turned on 
the nonexistence of matter. Malebranche, who had an 
inflammation in his lungs, and whom Berkeley found prepar¬ 
ing a medicine in his cell, and cooking it in a small pipkin, 
exerted his voice so violently in the heat of their dispute, that 
he increased his disorder, which carried him ofFa few days 
after.” 1 It is impossible not to regret, that of this interview 
there is no other record ;—or rather, that Berkeley had not 
made it the groundwork of one of his own dialogues. Fine 
as his imagination was, it could scarcely have added to the 
picturesque effect of the real scene. 2 

1 Biog. Brit. vol. II, p. 251. 

2 This interview happened in 1715, when Berkeley was in the 
thirty-first, and Malebranche in the seventy-seventh year of his 
age. What a change in the state of the philosophical world 
(whether for the better or worse is a different question) has 
taken place in the course of the intervening century! 

Dr. Warburton, who, even when he thinks the most unsound¬ 
ly, always possesses the rare merit of thinking for himself, is one 
of the very few English authors who have spoken of Malebranche 
with the the respect due to his extraordinary talents. “ All you 
say of Malebranche,” he observes in a letter to Dr. Hurd, “ is 
strictly true; he is an admirable writer. There is something 
very different in the fortune of Malebranche and Locke. When 
Malebranche first appeared, it was with a general applause and 
admiration; when Locke first published his Essay , he had hard¬ 
ly a single approver. Now Locke is universal, and Malebranche 
sunk into obscurity. All this may be easily accounted for. The 
intrinsiclc merit of either was out of the question. But Male¬ 
branche supported hi* first appearance on a philosophy in the 
highest vogue ; that philosophy has been overturned by the New- 


CHAP. U-] 


FIRST DISSERTATION* 


195 


Anthony Arnauld, whom 1 have already mentioned as 
one of the theological antagonists of Malebranche, is also 
entitled to a distinguished rank among the French philoso¬ 
phers of this period. In his book on true and false ideas, 
written in opposition to Malebranche’s scheme of our see¬ 
ing all things in God, he is acknowledged by Dr. Reid to 
have struck the first mortal blow at the ideal theory ; and to 
have approximated very nearly to his own refutation of this 
ancient and inveterate prejudice. 1 A step so important 

tonian, and Malebranche has fallen with his master. It was to 
no purpose to tell the world, that Malebranche could stand with¬ 
out him. The publick never examines so narrowly. Not 
but that there was another cause sufficient to do the business ; 
and that is, his debasing his noble work with his system of seeing 
all things in God. When this happens to a great author, one 
half of his readers out of folly, the other out of malice, dwell only 
on the unsound part, and forget the other, or use all their arts to 
have it forgotten. 

“ But the sage Locke supported himself by no system on the 
one hand; nor, on the other, did he dishonour himself by any 
whimsies. The consequence of which was, that, neither follow¬ 
ing the fashion, nor striking the imagination, he, at first, had 
neither followers nor admirers ; but being every where clear, and 
every where solid, he at length worked his way, and afterwards 
was subject to no reverses. He was not affected by the new' 
fashions in philosophy, who leaned upon none of the old; nor 
did he afford ground for the after attacks of envy and folly by 
any fanciful hypothesis which, when grown stale, are the most 
nauseous of all things.” 

The foregoing rejections on the opposite fates of these two 
philosophers, do honour on the whole to Warburton’s penetra¬ 
tion ; but the unqualified panegyrick on Locke will be now very 
generally allowed to furnish an additional example of “ that na¬ 
tional spirit, which,” according to Hume, “ forms the great hap¬ 
piness of the English, and leads them to bestow on all their emi¬ 
nent writers such praises and acclamations, as may often appear 
partial and excessive.” 

1 The following very concise and accurate summary of Ar- 
nauld’s doctrine concerning ideas y is given by Brucker. “ Au- 
tonius Arnaldus, ut argumenta Malebranchii eo fortius everteret, 
peculiarem sententiarn defendit, asseruitque, ideas earumque per- 
ceptiones esse unum idemque, et non nisi relationibus differre. 
Ideam scilicet esse, quatenu3 ad objectum refertur quod mens 


196 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[l’ART 1. $ If. 


would, of itself, be sufficient to establish his claim to a place 
in literary history ; but what chiefly induces me again to 
bring forward his name, is the reputation he has so justly 
acquired by his treatise, entitled the Art of Thinking ; l a 
treatise written by Arnauld, in conjunction with his friend 
Nicole, and of which (considering the time when it appear¬ 
ed) it is hardly possible to estimate the merits too highly. 
No publication certainly, prior to Locke’s Essay , can be 
named, containing so much good sense, and so little non¬ 
sense on the science of Logick; and very few have since 
appeared on the same subject, which can be justly prefer¬ 
red to it, in point of practical utility. If the author had 
lived in the present age, or had been less fettered by a pru¬ 
dent regard to existing prejudices, the technical part would 
probably have been reduced within a still narrower com¬ 
pass. But, even there, he has contrived to substitute for 
the puerile and contemptible examples of common logicians, 
several interesting illustrations from the physical discove¬ 
ries of his immediate predecessors ; and has indulged him¬ 
self in some short excursions, which excite a lively regret 
that he had not, more frequently and freely, given scope to 
his original reflections. Among these excursions, the most 
valuable, in my opinion, is the twentieth chapter of the 
third part, which deserves the attention of every logical 
student, as an important and instructive supplement to the 
enumeration of sophisms given by Aristotle. 2 

considerat; perceptionem vero, quatenus ad ipsam mentem quae 
percipit; duplicern tamen illam relationem ad unam pertinere 
mentis modificationem.” Hist. Phil, de Idcis , pp. 247, 248. 

1 More commonly known by the name of the Port Royal 
Logick. 

2 According to Crousaz, The Art of Thinking contributed more 
than either the Organon of Bacon, or the Method of Descartes, to 
improve the established modes of academical education on the 
Continent. (See the preface to his Logick , printed at Geneva 


\ 


hap. it.] FIRST DISSERTATION. 197 

The soundness of judgment, so eminently displayed in th« 
Art of Thinking, forms a curious contrast to that passion 
for theological controversy, and that zeal for what he con¬ 
ceived to be the purity of the Faith, which seem to have 
been the ruling passions of the author’s mind. He lived to 
the age of eighty-three, continuing to write against Male- 
branche’s opinions concerning Nature and Grace, to his 
last hour. “ He died,” says his biographer, “ in an ob¬ 
scure retreat at Brussels, in 1692, without fortune, and even 
without the comfort of a servant; he, whose nephew had 
been a Minister of State, and who might himself have been 
a Cardinal. The pleasure of being able to publish his sen¬ 
timents, was to him a sufficient recompense.” Nicole, his 
friend and companion in arms, worn out at length with these 
incessant disputes, expressed a wish to retire from the field, 

1724.) Leibnitz himself has mentioned it in the most flattering 
terms; coupling the name of the author with that of Pascal, a 
still more illustrious ornament of the Port Royal Society :—In- 
geniosissimus Pascalius in praeclara dissertatione deingenio Geo- 
inetrico, cujus fragmentum extat in egregio libro celeberrirai viri 
Antonii Arnaldi de Arte bene Cogitandi,” &c.; but lest this en¬ 
comium from so high an authority should excite a curiosity some¬ 
what out of proportion to the real value of the two works here 
mentioned, I think it right to add, that the praises bestowed by 
Leibnitz, whether on living or dead authors, are not always to 
be strictly and literally interpreted. “ No one,” says Hume, 
“is so liable to an excess of admiration as a truly great genius.” 
Wherever Leibnitz has occasion to refer to any work of solid 
merit, this remark applies to him with peculiar force; partly, it 
is probable, from his quick and sympathetick perception of con¬ 
genial excellence, and partly from a generous anxiety to point 
it out to the notice of the world. It affords, on the other hand, a 
remarkable illustration of the force of prejudice, that Buffier, a 
learned and most able Jesuit, should have been so far influenced 
by^.he hatred of his order to the Jansenists, as to distinguish the 
Port Royal Logiclc with a cold approbation of being “ a judicious 
compilation from former works on the same subject;—particularly 
from a treatise by a Spanish Jesuit, Fonseca .” Cours De Sciences, 
p. 873. Paris 1732. 


26 


198 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. $ n„ 


and to enjoy repose. “ Repose !” replied Arnauld; “ won’t 
you have the whole of eternity to repose in V 9 

An anecdote which is told of his infancy, when consi¬ 
dered in connexion with his subsequent life, affords a good 
illustration of the force of impressions received in the first 
dawn of reason. He was amusing himself one day with 
some childish sport, in the library of the Cardinal du Per¬ 
ron, when he requested of the Cardinal to give him a pen :— 
And for what purpose, said the Cardinal ?—To write books, 
like you, against the Huguenots. The Cardinal, it is ad¬ 
ded, who wa3 then old and infirm, could not conceal his 
joy at the prospect of so hopeful a successor ; and, as he 
was putting the pen into his hand, said, “ I give it to you, 
as the dying shepherd Damcetas bequeathed his pipe to 
the little Corydon.” 

The name of Pascal (that prodigy of parts , as Locke 
calls him) is more familiar to modern ears, than that of any 
of the other learned and polished anchorites, who have 
rendered the sanctuary of Port Royal so illustrious ; but 
his writings furnish few materials for philosophical history. 
Abstracting from his great merits in mathematicks and in 
physicks, his reputation rests chiefly on the Provincial 
Letters ; a work from which Voltaire, notwithstanding his 
strong prejudices against the author, dates the fixation of 
the French language; and of which the same excellent 
judge has said, that “ Moliere’s best comedies do not excel 
them in wit, nor the compositions of Bossuet in sublimity.” 
The enthusiastick admiration of Gibbon for this book, 
which he was accustomed from his youth to read once a 
year, is well known ; and is sufficient to account for the 
rapture with which it never fails to be spoken of by the 
erudite vulgar 1 in this country. I cannot help, however, 


1 Eruditum Vulgus. Plin. Nat . Hist. Lib. ii. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


199 


suspecting, that it is now more praised than read in Great 
Britain ; so completely have those disputes, to which it 
owed its first celebrity, lost their interest. Many pas¬ 
sages in it, indeed, will always be perused with delight; 
but it may be questioned, if Gibbon himself would have 
read it so often from beginning to end, had it not been for 
the strong hold which ecclesiastical controversies, and the 
Roman Catholick faith, had early taken of his mind. 

In one respect, the Provincial Letters are well entitled 
to the attention of philosophers; inasmuch as they present 
so faithful and lively a picture of the influence of false re¬ 
ligious views in perverting the moral sentiments of mankind. 
The overwhelming ridicule lavished by Pascal on the 
whole system of Jesuitical casuistry, and the happy effects 
of his pleasantry in preparing, from a distance, the fall 
of that formidable order, might be quoted as proofs, that 
there are at least some truths, in whose defence this wea¬ 
pon may be safely employed ;—perhaps with more advan¬ 
tage than the commanding voice of Reason herself. The 
mischievous absurdities which it was his aim to correct, 
scarcely admitted of the gravity of logical discussion ; re¬ 
quiring only the extirpation or the prevention of those 
early prejudices which choke the growth of common sense 
and of conscience: and for this purpose, what so likely 
to succeed with the open and generous minds of youth, as 
Ridicule, managed with decency and taste; more especial- 
ly when seconded, as in the Provincial Letters , by acute¬ 
ness of argument, and by the powerful eloquence of the 
heart ? In this point of view, few practical moralists can 
boast of having rendered a more important service than 
Pascal to the general interests of humanity. Were it not, 
indeed, for his exquisite satire, we should already be 
tempted to doubt, if, at so recent a date, it were possible 


200 FIRST DISSERTATION. [part i. \ cj 

for such extravagancies to have maintained a dangerous 
ascendant over the human understanding. 

The unconnected fragment of Pascal, entitled Thoughts 
on Religion, contains various reflections which are equal¬ 
ly just and ingenious; some which are truly sublime; and 
not a few which are false and puerile: the whole, however, 
deeply tinctured with that ascetick and morbid melancholy, 
which seems to have at last produced a partial eclipse of 
his faculties. Voltaire has animadverted on this fragment 
with much levity and petulance; mingling, at the same 
time, with many very exceptionable strictures, several of 
which it is impossible to dispute the justness. The fol¬ 
lowing reflection is worthy of Addison ; and bears a strong 
resemblance in its spirit to the amiable lessons inculcated 
in his papers on Cheerfulness : 1 “ To consider the world 
as a dungeon, and the whole human race as so many crimi¬ 
nals doomed to execution, is the idea of an enthusiast; to 
suppose the world to be a seat of delight, where we are to 
expect nothing but pleasure, is the dream of a Sybarite ; 
but to conclude that the Earth, Man, and the lower Ani¬ 
mals, are, all of them, subservie'nt to the purposes of an un¬ 
erring Providence, is, in my opinion, the system of a wise 
and good man.” 

From the sad history of this great and excellent person 
(on whose deep superstitious gloom it is the more painful 
to dwell, that, by an unaccountable, though not singular 
coincidence, it was occasionally brightened by the inoffen¬ 
sive play of a lively and sportive fancy,) the eye turns 
with pleasure to repose on the mitis sapientia, and the 
Elysian imagination of Fenelon. The interval between 
the deaths of these two waiters is indeed considerable ; but 
that between their births does not amount to thirty years , 


Spcctatqr, No. 38] and 387. 


omap. it.] FIRST DISSERTATION. 20 J 

and, in point of education, both enjoyed nearly the same 
advantages. 

The reputation of Fenelon as a philosopher would pro¬ 
bably have been higher and more universal than it is, if he 
had not added to the depth, comprehension, and sound 
ness of his judgment, so rich a variety of those more pleas 
ing and attractive qualities, which are commonly regarded 
rather as the flowers than the fruits of study. The same 
remark may be extended to the Fenelon of England, whose 
ingenious and original essays on the Pleasures of Imagi 
nation would have been much more valued by modern 
metaphysicians, had they been less beautifully and happily 
written. The characteristical excellence, however, of the 
Archbishop of Cambray, is that moral wisdom which (as 
Shaftesbury has well observed) “ comes more from the 
heart than from the head;** and which seems to depend 
less on the reach of our reasoning powers, than on the ab¬ 
sence of those narrow and malignant passions, which, on 
all questions of ethicks and politicks (perhaps I might add 
of religion also,) are the chief source of our speculative 
errours. 

The Adventures of Telemachus , when considered as a 
production of the seventeenth century, and still more an 
the work of a Roman Catholick Bishop, is a sort of pro 
digy ; and it may, to this day, be confidently recommend 
ed, as the best manual extant, for impressing on the minds 
of youth the leading truths, both of practical morals and of 
political economy. Nor ought it to be concluded, because 
these truths appear to lie so near the surface, and command 
so immediately the cordial'assent of the understanding, 
that they are therefore obvious or tritical; for the case is 
the same with all the truths most essential to human hap¬ 
piness. The importance of agriculture and of religious 
toleration to the prosperity of states ; the criminal impoli- 


202 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. i II. 


cy of thwarting the kind arrangements of Providence, by 
restraints upon commerce ; and the duty of legislators to 
study the laws of the moral world as the groundwork and 
standard of their own, appear, to minds unsophisticated by 
inveterate prejudices, as approaching nearly to the class of 
axioms;—yet, how much ingenious and refined discussion 
has been employed, even in our own times, to combat the 
prejudices which every where continue to struggle against 
them ; and how remote does the period yet seem, when 
there is any probability that these prejudices shall be com¬ 
pletely abandoned! 

“ But how,” said Telemachus to Narbal, “ can such a 
commerce as this of Tyre be established at Ithaca V 9 
“ By the same means,” said Narbal, “ that have establish¬ 
ed it here. Receive all strangers with readiness and hos¬ 
pitality ; let them find convenience and liberty in your 
ports ; and be careful never to disgust them by avarice or 
pride : above all, never restrain the freedom of commerce, 
by rendering it subservient to your own immediate gain. 
The pecuniary advantages of commerce should be left 
wholly to those by whose labour it subsists ; lest this la¬ 
bour, for want of a sufficient motive, should cease. There 
are more than equivalent advantagesof another kind, which 
must necessarily result to the Prince from the wealth 
which a free commerce will bring into his state ; and com¬ 
merce is a kind of spring, which to divert from its natural 
channel is to lose.” ' Had the same question been put to 
Smith or to Franklin in the present age, what sounder ad¬ 
vice could they have offered ? 

In one of Fenelon’s Dialogues of the Dead , the follow¬ 
ing remarkable words are put into the mouth of Socrates: 
“ it is necessary that a people should have written laws, 
always the same, and consecrated by the whole nation : 


1 Hawkesworth’s Translation. 


CHAP. II,] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


203 


that these laws should be paramount to every thing else ; 
that those who govern should derive their authority from 
them alone; possessing an unbounded power to do all the 
good which the laws prescribe, and restrained from every 
act of injustice which the laws prohibit-” 

But it is chiefly in a work which did not appear till many 
years after his death, that we have an opportunity of trac¬ 
ing the enlargement of Fenelon’s political views, and the 
extent of his Christian charity. It is entitled Direction 
pour la Conscience d'un Roi; and abounds with as liberal 
and enlightened maxims of government as, under the freest 
constitutions, have ever been offered by a subject to a 
sovereign. Where the variety of excellence renders se¬ 
lection so difficult, I must not venture upon any extracts ; 
nor, indeed, would I willingly injure the effect of the whole 
by quoting detached passages. A few sentences on liber¬ 
ty of conscience (which I will not presume to translate) 
may suffice to convey an idea of the general spirit with 
which it is animated. “ Sur toute chose, ne forcez jamais 
vos sujets a changer de religion. Nulle puissance humaine 
ne pent forcer le retranchement impenetrable de la libertc 
du coeur. La force ne peut jamais persuader les hom- 
mes ; elle ne fait que des hypocrites. Q,uand les rois se 
m£lent de religion, au lieu de la proteger, ils la mettent en 
servitude. Accordez a tous la tolerance civile, non en 
approuvant tout comme indifferent, mais en souffrant avec 
patience tout ce que Dieu souffre, et en fachant de ramener 
les hommes par une douce persuasion.” 


And so much for the French philosophy of the seven¬ 
teenth century. The extracts last quoted forewarn us, 
that we are fast approaching to a new era in the history of 


204 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[past I. $ ill. 


the Human Mind. The glow-worm ’gins to pale his in¬ 
effectual fire ; and we scent the morning air of the coming 
day. This era 1 propose to date from the publications of 
Locke and of Leibnitz ; but the remarks which I have to 
offer on their writings, and on those of their most distin¬ 
guished successors, I reserve for the Second Part of this 
Discourse ; confining myself, at present, to a very short 
retrospect of the state of philosophy, during the preceding 
period, in some other countries of Europe. 1 


SECTION III. 

Progress of Philosophy during the Seventeenth Century, in some parts of Europe, 
not included in the preceding Review. 

During the first half of the seventeenth century, the 
philosophical spirit which had arisen with such happy 
auspices in England and in France, has left behind it few 
or no traces of its existence in the rest of Europe. On all 
questions connected with the science of mind (a phrase 
which I here use in its largest acceptation,) authority con¬ 
tinued to be every where mistaken for argument; nor can 
a single work be named, bearing, in its character, the most 
distant resemblance to the Organon of Bacon ; to the 
Meditations of Descartes ; or to the bold theories of that 
sublime genius who, soon after, was to shed so dazzling a 
lustre on the north of Germany. Kepler and Galileo still 

1 I have classed T'el'tmaquc and the Direction pour la Con¬ 
science (Tun Roi with the philosophy of the seventeenth century, 
although the publication of the former was not permitted til! 
after the death of Louis XIV, nor that of the latter till 1748. 
The tardy appearance of both only shows how far the author 
had shot a-head of the orthodox religion and politicks of his 
times. 


CBAtVII.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


205 


lived; the former languishing in poverty at Prague ; the 
latter oppressed with blindness, and with ecclesiastical 
persecution at Florence ; but their pursuits were of a na¬ 
ture altogether foreign to our present subject. 

One celebrated work alone, the treatise of Grotius De 
Jure Belli el Pads (first printed in 1625,) arrests our at¬ 
tention among the crowd of useless and forgotten volumes, 
which were then issuing from the presses of Holland, Ger¬ 
many, and Italy. The influence of this treatise, in giving 
a new direction to the studies of the learned, was so re¬ 
markable, and continued so long to operate with undimi¬ 
nished effect, that it is necessary to allot to the author, and 
to his successors, a space considerably larger than may, at 
first sight, seern due to their merits. Notwithstanding the 
just neglect into which they have lately fallen in our Uni¬ 
versities, it will be found, on a close examination, that they 
form an important link in the history of modern literature. 
It was from their school that most of our best writers oil 
Ethicks have proceeded, and many of our most original 
inquirers into the Human Mind; and it is to the same 
school (as I shall endeavour to shew in the Second Part of 
this Discourse,) that we are chiefly indebted for the mo¬ 
dern science of Political Economy. 1 

For the information of those who have not read the trea¬ 
tise De Jure Belli et Pads , it may be proper to observe, 
that, under this title, Grotius has aimed at a complete 
system of Natural Law. Condillac says, that he chose 
the title, in order to excite a more general curiosity ; add- 

1 From a letter of Grotius, quoted by Gassendi, we learn, that 
the treatise De Jure Belli et Pads was undertaken at the request 
of his learned friend Peireskius. “ Non otior, sed in illode jure 
gentium opere pergo, quod si tale futurum est, ut lectore3 deme- 
reri possit, babebit quod tibi debeat posteritas, qui me ad hunc 
laborem et auxilio et hortatu tuo excitasti.” Gasse?idi Opera, 
Tom. V, p. 294. 


27 


206 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. $ Ill s 


ing (and, I believe, very justly,) that many of the most 
prominent defects of his work may be fairly ascribed to a 
compliance with the taste of his age. “ The author,” says 
Condillac, u was able to think for himself; but he con¬ 
stantly labours to support his conclusions by the authority 
of others ; producing, on many occasions, in support of the 
most obvious and indisputable propositions, a long string 
of quotations from the Mosaick law ; from the Gospels ; 
from the Fathers of the Church; from the Casuists ; and 
not unfrequently, in the very same paragraph, from Ovid 
and Aristophanes.” In consequence of this cloud of wit¬ 
nesses, always at hand to attest the truth of his axioms, not 
only is the attention perpetually interrupted and distract¬ 
ed ; but the author’s reasonings, even when perfectly solid 
and satisfactory, fail in making a due impression on the 
reader’s mind ; while the very little that there probably 
was of systematical arrangement in the general plan of the 
book, is totally kept out of view. 

In spite of these defects, or rather, perhaps, in conse¬ 
quence of some of them, the impression produced by the 
treatise in question, on its first publication, was singularly 
great. The stores of erudition displayed in it, recom¬ 
mended it to the classical scholar; while the happy ap¬ 
plication ofr the author’s reading to the affairs of human 
life, drew the attention of such men as Gustavus Adol¬ 
phus ; of his Prime Minister, the Chancellor Oxenstiern; 
and of the Elector Palatine, Charles Lewis. The last of 
these was so struck with it, that he founded at Heidelberg 
a Professorship for the express purpose of teaching the 
Law of Nature and Nations;—an office which be bestowed 
on Puffendorff; the most noted, and, on the whole, the 
most eminent of those who have aspired to tread in the 
footsteps of Grotius. 


itMAf. U.) 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


207 


The fundamental principles of PuiFendorff possess little 
merit in point of originality, being a sort of medley of the 
doctrines of Grotius, with some opinions of Hobbes; but 
his book is entitled to the praise of comparative concise¬ 
ness, order, and perspicuity ; and accordingly came very 
generally to supplant the treatise of Grotius, as a manual 
or institute for students, notwithstanding its immense in¬ 
feriority in genius, in learning, and in classical composition. 

The authors who, in different parts of the Continent, 
have since employed themselves in commenting on Grotius 
and Puffendortf; or in abridging their systems; or in al¬ 
tering their arrangements, are innumerable ; but notwith¬ 
standing all their industry and learning, it would be very 
difficult to name any class of writers, whose labours have 
been of less utility to the world. The same ideas are con¬ 
stantly recurring in an eternal circle ; the opinions of Gro¬ 
tius and of Puffendortf, where they are at all equivocal, 
are anxiously investigated, and sometimes involved in ad¬ 
ditional obscurity ; while, in the meantime, the science of 
Natural Jurisprudence never advances one single step; 
but, notwithstanding its recent birth, seems already sunk 
into a state of dotage. 1 

In perusing the systems now referred to, it is impossible 
not to feel a very painful dissatisfaction, from the difficulty 
of ascertaining the precise object aimed at by the authors. 
So vague and indeterminate is the general scope of their 

1 I have borrowed, in this last paragraph, some expressions 
from Lampredi. “ Grotii et Putfendorfii interpretes, viri quidem 
diiigentissimi, sed qui vix fructum aliquem tot commentariis, ad- 
notationibus, compendiis, tabulis, ceterisque ejusmodi aridissimis 
laboribus attulerunt: perpetuo circulo eadem res circumagitur, 
quid uterque senserit quaeritur, interdum etiam ulriusque senten- 
tiae obscurantur; disciplina nostra tamen ne latum quidem un- 
guem progreditur, et dum aliorum sententiae disquiruntur et 
explanantur, Rerum Natura quasi senio confecta squalescit, 
neglectaque jacet et inobservata omnino.” (Juris Publici Tlie&re 
mata , p. 34.) 


208 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. § iu- 


researches, that not only are different views of the subject 
taken by different writers, but even by the same writer in 
different parts of his work ;—a circumstance which, of it¬ 
self, sufficiently accounts for the slender additions they 
have made to the stock of useful knowledge ; and which is 
the real source of that chaos of heterogeneous discussions, 
through which the reader is perpetually forced to fight his 
way. A distinct conception of these different views will 
be found to throw more light than might at first be expect¬ 
ed on the subsequent history of Moral and of Political 
science ; and I shall therefore endeavour, as accurately as 
I can, to disentangle and separate them from each other, 
at the risk, perhaps, of incurring, from some readers, the 
charge of prolixity. The most important of them may, I 
apprehend, be referred to one or other of the following 
heads: 

1, Among the different ideas which have been formed of 
Natural Jurisprudence, one of the most common (particu¬ 
larly in the earlier systems) supposes its object to be— 
To lay down those rules of justice which would be bind¬ 
ing on men living in a social state, without any positive 
institutions; or (as it is frequently called by writers on 
this subject,) living together in a state of nature. This 
idea of the province of Jurisprudence seems to have been 
uppermost in the mind of Grotius, in various parts of his 
treatise. 

To this speculation about the state of nature, Grotius 
was manifestly led by his laudable anxiety to counteract 
the attempts then recently made to undermine the founda¬ 
tions of morality. That moral distinctions are created en¬ 
tirely by the arbitrary and revealed will of God, had, before 
his time, been zealously maintained by some theologians 
even of the reformed church ; while, among the political 
theorists of the same period, it was not unusual to refer 


CHAP. XI.j 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


209 


these distinctions (as was afterwards done by Hobbes) to 
the positive institutions of the civil magistrate. In opposi¬ 
tion to both, it was contended by Grotius, that there is a 
natural law coeval with the human constitution, from which 
positive institutions derive all their force; a truth which, 
how obvious and tritical soever it may now appear, was so 
opposite in its spirit to the illiberal systems taught in the 
monkish establishments, that he thought it necessary to ex¬ 
haust in its support all his stores of ancient learning. The 
older writers on Jurisprudence must, I think, be allowed to 
have had great merit in dwelling so much on this funda¬ 
mental principle ; a principle which renders “ Man a Law 
to Himself and which, if it be once admitted, reduces 
the metaphysical question concerning the nature of the 
moral faculty to an object merely of speculative curiosity.' 
To this faculty the ancients frequently give the name of 
reason ; as in that noted passage of Cicero, where he ob¬ 
serves, that “ right reason is itself a law ; congenial to the 
feelings of nature ; diffused among all men; uniform ; eter¬ 
nal; calling us imperiously to our duty, and peremptorily 
prohibiting every violation of it. Nor does it speak,” 
continues the same author, “one language at Rome and 

1 “ Upon whatever we suppose that our moral faculties are 
founded, whether upon a certain modification of reason, upon an 
original instinct, called a moral sense, or upon some other prin¬ 
ciple of our nature, it cannot he doubted that they were given us 
for the direction of our conduct in this life. They carry along 
with them the most evident badges of this authority, which de¬ 
note that they were set up within us to be the supreme arbiters 
of all our actions, to superintend all our senses, passions, and 
appetites, and to judge how far each of them was either to be 
indulged or restrained. The rules, therefore, which they pre 
scribe, are to be regarded as the commands and laws of the Deity, 
promulgated by those vicegerents which he has set up within 
us.” (Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments , Part iii, chap, v.)— 
See also Dr. Butler’s"very original and philosophical Discourses 
on Human Nature. 


210 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[PAST 1. $ HI. 


another at Athens, varying from place to place, or time to 
time ; but it addresses itself to all nations, and to all ages ; 
deriving its authority from the common sovereign of the 
universe, and carrying home its sanctions to every breast, 
by the inevitable punishment which it iuflicts on transgres¬ 
sors.” 1 

The habit of considering morality under the similitude 
of a law , (a law engraved on the human heart,) led not un¬ 
naturally to an application to ethical subjects of the tech¬ 
nical language and arrangements of the Roman jurispru¬ 
dence ; and this innovation was at once facilitated and 
encouraged, by certain peculiarities in the nature of the 
most important of all the virtues,—that of justice ; pecu¬ 
liarities which, although first explained fully by Hume and 
Smith, were too prominent to escape altogether the notice 
of preceding moralists. 

The circumstances which distinguish justice from the 
other virtues, are chiefly two. In the first place, its rules 
may be laid down with a degree of accuracy, whereof moral 
precepts do not, in any other instance, admit. Secondly, 
its rules may be enforced, inasmuch as every transgression 
of them implies a violation of the rights of others. For 
the illustration of both propositions, I must refer to the 
eminent authors just mentioned. 

As, in the case of justice, there is always a right, on 
the one hand, corresponding to an obligation on the other, 
the various rules enjoined by it may be stated in two dif¬ 
ferent forms; either as a system of duties, or as a system 
of rights. The former view of the subject belongs proper¬ 
ly to the moralists—the latter to the lawyer. It is this 
last view that the writers on Natural Jurisprudence (most 
of whom were lawyers by profession) have in general cho- 

1 Frag . Lib. iii, de Rep. 


chap, ii.j FIRST DISSERTATION. 211 

sen to adopt; although, in the same works, both views will 
be found to be not unfrequently blended together. 

To some indistinct conception, among the earlier writers 
on Natural Law, of these peculiarities in the nature of 
justice, we may probably ascribe the remarkable contrast 
pointed out by Mr. Smith, between the ethical systems of 
ancient and of modern times. “ In none of the ancient 
moralists,” he observes, “do we find any attempt towards 
a particular enumeration of the rules of justice. On the 
contrary, Cicero in his Offices, and Aristotle in his Ethicks, 
treat of justice in the same general manner in which they 
treat of generosity or of charity.” 1 

But, although the rules of justice are in every case pre¬ 
cise and indispensable ; and although their authority is al¬ 
together independent of that of the civil magistrate, it 
would obviously be absurd to spend much time in specu¬ 
lating about the principles of this natural law, as applica¬ 
ble to men before the establishment of government. The 
same state of society, which diversifies the condition of 
individuals to so great a degree, as to suggest problematical 
questions with respect to their rights and their duties, ne¬ 
cessarily gives birth to certain conventional laws or cus¬ 
toms, by which the conduct of the different members of 
the association is to be guided ; and agreeably to which 
the disputes that may arise among them are to be adjusted. 
The imaginary slate referred to under the title of the Slate 
of Nature , though it certainly does not exclude the idea 
of a moral right of property arising from labour , yet it 
excludes all that variety of cases concerning its alienation 
and transmission, and Ihe mutual covenants of parties, 
which the political union alone could create ;—an order of 
things, indeed, which is virtually supposed in almost all 

1 Theory of Moral Sentiments , Part vii, sect. iv> 


212 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. $ 111. 


the speculations about which the law of nature is common¬ 
ly employed. 

2, It was probably in consequence of the very narrow 
field of study, which Jurisprudence, considered in this 
light, was found to open, that its province was gradually 
enlarged, so as to comprehend, not merely the rules of 
justice, but the rules enjoining all our other moral duties. 
Nor was it only the province of Jurisprudence which was 
thus enlarged. A corresponding extension was also given, 
by the help of arbitrary definitions, to its technical phrase- 
ology, till at length the whole doctrines of practical 
ethicks came to be moulded into an artificial form, originally 
copied from the Roman code. Although justice is the 
only branch of virtue in which every moral Obligation im¬ 
plies a corresponding Right, the writers on Natural Law 
have contrived, by fictions of imperfect rights, and of ex¬ 
ternal rights, to treat indirectly of all our various duties, 
by pointing out the rights which are supposed to be their 
correlates :—in other words, they have contrived to ex¬ 
hibit, in the form of a system of rights, a connected view 
of the whole duty of man. This idea of Jurisprudence, 
which identifies its object with that of Moral Philosophy, 
seems to coincide nearly with that of Puffendorff; and 
some vague notion of the same sort has manifestly given 
birth to many of the digressions of Grotius. 

Whatever judgment may now be pronounced on the 
effects of this innovation, it is certain that they were con¬ 
sidered, not only at the time, but for many years after¬ 
wards, as highly favourable. A very learned ajnd re¬ 
spectable writer, Mr. Carmichael of Glasgow, compares 
them to (he improvements made in Natural Philosophy by 
the followers of Lord Bacon. “ No person,” he observes, 
“ liberally educated, can be ignorant, that, within the re¬ 
collection of ourselves and of our fathers, philosophy has 


CHAP. II.) 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


213 


advanced to a state of progressive improvement hitherto 
unexampled; in consequence partly of the rejection of 
scholastick absurdities, and partly of the accession of new 
discoveries. Nor does this remark apply solely to Natural 
Philosophy, in which the improvements accomplished by 
the united labours of the learned have forced themselves 
on the notice even of the vulgar, by their palpable influ* 
ence on the mechanical arts. The other branches of phi* 
losophy also have been prosecuted during the last century 
with no less success; and none of them in a more remark¬ 
able degree than the science of Morals. 

“ This science, so much esteemed, and so assiduously 
cultivated by the sages of antiquity, lay, for a length of 
time, in common with all the other useful arts, buried in 
the rubbish of the dark ages, till (soon after the commence¬ 
ment of the seventeenth century,) the incomparable trea¬ 
tise of Grotius de Jure Belli et Pads restored to more 
than its ancient splendour that part of it which defines the 
relative duties of individuals ; and which, in consequence 
of the immense variety of cases comprehended under it, 
is by far the most extensive of any. Since that period, 
the most learned and polite scholars of Europe, as if sud¬ 
denly roused by the alarm of a trumpet, have vied with 
each other in the prosecution of this study,—so strongly 
recommended to their attention, not merely by its novelty, 
but by the importance of its conclusions, a,nd the dignity 
of its object.” 1 

l The last sentence is thus expressed in the original. “ Ex 
illo tempore, quasi classic© dato, ab eruditissimis passim et 
politissimis viris excoli certatim coepit utilissima haec nobi- 
Jissimaque doctrina.” (See the edition of Puflendorff, De offi¬ 
cio Hominis etCivis , by Professor Gerschom Carmichael of Glas¬ 
gow, 1724;) an author whom Dr. Hutcheson pronounces to be 
“ by far the best commentator on Puffendorff; and “ whose notes” 

28 


214 


FIRST DISSERTATION, 


[part i. § in- 


1 have selected this passage, in preference to many 
others that might be quoted to the same purpose from wri¬ 
ters of higher name; because, in the sequel of this his¬ 
torical sketch, it appears to me peculiarly interesting to 
mark the progress of Ethical and Political speculation in 

he adds, “ are of much more value than the text” See his short 
Introduction to Moral Philosophy. 

Pufifendortfs principal work, entitled De Jure Naturae et Gen¬ 
tium , was first printed in 1672, and was afterwards abridged by 
the author into the small volume referred to in the foregoing pa¬ 
ragraph. The idea of Puffendorflf’s aim, formed by Mr, Car¬ 
michael, coincides exactly with the account of it given in the 
text: “ Hoc demurn tractatu edito, facile intellexerunt aequio- 
res harum rerum arbitri, non aliam esse genuinam Morum Philo - 
sophiam, quam quae ex evidentibus principiis, in ipsa reruns na- 
tura fundatis, hominis atque civis officia, in singulis vitae huma- 
nae circumstantiis debita, eruit ac demonstrat; atque adeo Juris 
Naturalis scientiam, quantumvis diversam ab Ethica quae in 
scholis dudum obtinuerat, prae se ferret faciem, non esse, quod 
ad scopum et rem tractandam, vere aliam disciplinam, sed ean* 
dem rectius duntaxat et solidius traditam, ita ut, ad quam prius 
male collineaverit, tandem reipsa feriret scopum.” See Car¬ 
michael’s edition of the Treatise De Officio Hominis et Civis , 
p. 7. 

To so late a period did this admiration of the Treatise, De 
Officio Hominis et Civis , continue in our Scotch Universities, 
that the very learned and respectable Sir John Pringle (after¬ 
wards President of the Royal Society of London,) adopted it as 
the text-book for his lectures, while he held the Professorship 
of Moral Philosophy at Edinburgh. Nor does the case seem 
to have been different in England. “ 1 am going,” says Gray, 
in a letter written while a student at Cambridge, “ to attend a 
lecture on one Puffendorff.” And, much in the same spirit, Vol¬ 
taire thus expresses himself with respect to the schools of the 
Continent: “On est partage, dans les ecoles, entre Grotius et 
Puffendorff. Croyez moi, lisez les Offices de Ciceron.” From 
the contemptuous tone of these two writers, it should seem that 
the old systems of Natural Jurisprudence had entirely lost their 
credit among men of taste and of enlarged views, long before 
they ceased to form an essential part of accademical instruc¬ 
tion; thus affording an additional confirmation of Mr. Smith’s 
complaint, that “ the greater part of universities have not been 
very forward to adopt improvements after they were made ; and 
that several of those learned societies have chosen to remain. 


OKAF. Il.J 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


215 


that seat of learning, which, not many years afterwards, 
was to give birth to the Theory of Moral Sentiments , and 
to the Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth 
of Nations. The powerful effect which the last of these 
works has produced on the political opinions of the whole 
civilized world, renders it unnecessary, in a Discourse 
destined to form part of a Scotish Encyclopaedia , to 
offer any apology for attempting to trace, with some mi¬ 
nuteness, the train of thought by which an undertaking, 
so highly honourable to the literary character of our coun¬ 
try, seems to have been suggested to the author. 

The extravagance of the praise lavished on Grotius and 
Puffendorff, in the above citation from Carmichael, can 
be accounted for only by the degraded state into which 
Ethicks had fallen in the hands of those who were led to 
the study of it, either as a preparation for the casuistical 
discussions subservient to the practice of auricular con¬ 
fession, or to justify a scheme of morality which recom¬ 
mended the useless austerities of an ascetick retirement, 
in preference to the manly duties of social life. The 
practical doctrines inculcated by the writers on Natural 
Law, were all of them favourable to active virtue ; and, 
how reprehensible soever in point of form, were not only 
harmless, but highly beneficial in their tendency. They 
were at the same time so diversified (particularly in the 
work of Grotius) with beautiful quotations from the Greek 
and Roman classicks, that they could not fail to present a 
striking contrast to the absurd and illiberal systems which 
they supplanted ; and perhaps to these passages, to which 

for a long time, the sanctuaries, in which exploded systems found 
shelter and protection, after they had been hunted out of every 
other corner of the world.” Considering his own successful ex¬ 
ertions, in his academical capacity, to remedy this evil, it is 
more than probable that Mr. Smith had Grotius and Puffendorff 
in his view, when he wrote the foregoing sentence. 


216 FIRST DISSERTATION. [part i. $ m. 

they thus gave a sort of systematical connexion, the pro¬ 
gress which the science made in the course of the eigh¬ 
teenth century, may, in no inconsiderable degree, be as¬ 
cribed. Even now, when so very different a taste pre¬ 
vails, the treatise De Jure Belli et Pads possesses many 
charms to a classical reader ; who, although he may not 
always set a very high value on the author’s reasonings, 
must at least be dazzled and delighted with the splendid 
profusion of his learning. 

The field of Natural Jurisprudence, however, was not 
long to remain circumscribed within the narrow limits com¬ 
monly assigned to the province of Ethicks. The con¬ 
trast between natural law and positive institution, which 
it constantly presents to the mind, gradually and insensi¬ 
bly suggested the idea of comprehending under it every 
question concerning right and wrong, on which positive law is 
silent. Hence the origin of two different departments of Ju¬ 
risprudence, little attended to by some of the first authors 
who treated of it, but afterwards, from their practical im¬ 
portance, gradually encroaching more and more on those 
ethical disquisitions by which they were suggested. Of 
these departments, the one refers to the conduct of indi¬ 
viduals in those violent and critical moments when the 
bonds of political society are torn asunder ; the other, to 
the mutual relations of independent communities. The 
questions connected with the former article, lie indeed 
within a comparatively narrow compass ; but on the latter 
so much has been written, that what was formerly called 
Natural Jurisprudence, has been, in later times, not unfre- 
quently distinguished by the title of the Law of Nature 
and Nations . The train of thought by which both sub¬ 
jects came to be connected with the systems now under 
consideration, consists of a few very simple and obvious 
steps. 


SHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


217 


As an individual who is a member of a political body 
necessarily gives up his will to that of the governours 
who are entrusted by the people with the supreme power, 
it is his duty to submit to those inconveniences which, in 
consequence of the imperfection of all human estabiish- 
ments, may incidentally fall to his own lot. This duty is 
founded on the Law of Nature, from which, indeed, (as 
must appear evident on the slightest reflection) conven¬ 
tional law derives all its moral force and obligation. The 
great end, however, of the political union being a sense of 
general utility, if this end should be manifestly frustrated, 
either by the injustice of laws, or the tyranny of rulers, 
individuals must have recourse to the principles of natu¬ 
ral law, in order to determine how far it is competent for 
them to withdraw themselves from their country, or 1o re¬ 
sist its governours by force. To Jurisprudence,, there¬ 
fore, considered in this light, came with great propriety 
to be referred all those practical discussions which re¬ 
late to the limits of allegiance, and the right of resist¬ 
ance. 

By a step equally simple, the province of the science 
was still farther extended. As independent states ac¬ 
knowledge no superiour, the obvious inference was, that 
the disputes arising among them must be determined by 
an appeal to the Law of Nature; and accordingly, this 
law, when applied to states, forms a separate part of Ju¬ 
risprudence, under the title of the Law of Nations. By 
some writers we are told, that the general principles of the 
Law of Nature, and of the Law of Nations, are one and 
the same, and that the distinction between them is merely 
verbal. To this opinion, which is very confidently stated 
by Hobbes, 1 PuffendorfF has given his sanction; and, in 

1 “ Lex Naturalis dividi potest in naturalem hominum, quae 
«ola obtinuit dici Lex Naturae, et naturalem civitatum, quae 


218 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. 0 111. 


conformity to it, contents himself with laying down the 
general principles of natural law, leaving it to the reader 
to apply it as he may find necessary, to individuals or to 
societies. 

The later writers on Jurisprudence have thought it 
expedient to separate the law of nations from that part of 

dici potest Lex Gentium, vulgo autem Jus Gentium appellatur. 
Praecepta utriusque eadem sunt; sed quia civitates semel insti- 
tutae induunt proprietates hominum personales, lex, quam loquen- 
tes de hominum singulorum officio naturalem dicimus, applicata 
totis civitatibus, nationibus, sive gentibus, vocatur Jus Gentium.’ 
De Cive , cap. xiv, § 4. 

In a late publication, from the title of which some attention to 
dates might have been expected, we are told, that “ Hobbes’s 
hook De Cive appeared but a little time before the treatise of 
Grotius;” whereas, in point of fact, Hobbes’s book did not ap¬ 
pear till twenty-two years after it. A few copies were indeed 
printed at Paris, and privately circulated by Hobbes, as early as 
1642, but the book was not published till 1647. (See “ An Inqui¬ 
ry into the Foundation and History of the Law of Nations in Eu¬ 
rope , &c.” by Robert Ward of the Inner Temple, Esq. London, 
1795.) This inaccuracy, however, is trifling, when compared 
with those committed in the same work, in stating the distin¬ 
guishing doctrines of the two sj'stems. 

As a writer on the Law of Nations, Hobbes is now altogether 
unworthy of notice. I shall therefore only remark on this part 
of his philosophy, that its aim is precisely the reverse of that of 
Grotius; the latter labouring, through the whole of his treatise, 
to extend, as far as possible, among independent states, the same 
laws of justice and of humanity, which are universally recog¬ 
nized among individuals; while Hobbes, by inverting the argu¬ 
ment, exerts his ingenuity to shew, that the moral repulsion 
which commonly exists between independent and neighbouring 
communilies, is an exact picture of that which existed among 
individuals prior to the origin of government. The inference, 
indeed, was most illogical, inasmuch as it is the social attrac¬ 
tion among individuals which is the source of the mutual repul¬ 
sion among nations: and as this attraction invariably operates 
with the greatest force, where the individual is the most complete¬ 
ly independent of his species, and where the advantages of the 
political union are the least sensibly felt. If, in any state of 
human nature, it be in danger of becoming quite evanescent, it 
is in large and civilized empires, where man becomes indispen- 


HAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


219 


the science which treats of the duties of individuals but 
without being at sufficient pains to form to themselves a 
definite idea of the object of their studies. Whoever 
takes the trouble to look into their systems, will immedi¬ 
ately perceive, that their leading aim is not (as might have 
been expected,) to ascertain the great principles of mo¬ 
rality binding on all nations in their intercourse with each 
other ; or to point out with what limitations the ethical 
rules rscognized among individuals must be understood, 
when extended to political and unconnected bodies; but 
to exhibit a digest of those laws and usages, which, partly 
from considerations of utility, partly from accidental cir¬ 
cumstances, and partly from positive conventions, have 
gradually arisen among those states of Christendom, which, 
from their mutual connexions, may be considered as form¬ 
ing one great republick. It is evident, that such a digest 
has no more connexion with the Law of Nature, properly 
so called, than it has with the rules of the Roman law, or 
of any other municipal code. The details contained in it 

sably necessary to man : depending for the gratification of his 
artificial wants on the cooperation of thousands of his fellow 
citizens. 

Let me add, that the theory, so fashionable at present, which 
resolves the whole of morality into the principle of utility , is 
more nearly akin to Hobbism, than some of its partisans arc 
aware of. 

1 The credit of this improvement is ascribed by Vattel (one 
of the most esteemed writers on the subject,) to the celebrated 
German philosopher Wolfius, whose labours in this department, 
of study he estimates very highly. ( Questions de Droit Naturel. 
Berne, 1762.) Of this great work I know nothing but the title, 
which is not calculated to excite much curiosity in the present 
times : “ Christiani Wolfii jus Naturae methodo scientijica per - 
tractatum, in 9 Tomes distributum.” (Francof. 1740.) “Non 
est,” says Lampredi, himself a professor of publick law, “ qui 
non deterreatur tanta Iibrorum farragine, quasi vero Hercm 
leo labore opus esset, ut quia honestalem et justitiam addiscat. 


220 


FIRST DISSERTATION* 


[rAnr 1. $ in. 


are highly interesting ahd useful in themselves; but they 
belong to a science altogether different; a science, ill 
which the ultimate appeal is made, not to abstract maxims 
of right and wrong, but to precedents, to established cus¬ 
toms, and to the authority of the learned. 

The intimate alliance, however, thus established be¬ 
tween the Law of Nature and the conventional Law of 
Nations, has been on the whole attended with fortunate ef¬ 
fects. In consequence of the discussions concerning 
questions of justice and of expediency which came to be 
blended with the details of publick law, more enlarged and 
philosophical views have gradually presented themselves 
to the minds of speculative statesmen ; and, in the last re¬ 
sult, have led, by easy steps, to those liberal doctrines 
concerning commercial policy, and the other mutual re¬ 
lations of separate and independent states, which, if they 
should ever become the creed of the rulers of mankind, 
promise so large an accession to human happiness. 

3, Another idea of Natural Jurisprudence, essentially 
distinct from those hitherto mentioned, remains to be con¬ 
sidered. According to this, its object is to ascertain the 
general principles of justice which ought to be recognized 
in every municipal code ; and to which it ought to be the 
aim of every legislator to accommodate his institutions. 
It is to this idea of Jurisprudence that Mr. Smith has 
given his sanction in the conclusion of his' Theory of 
Moral Sentiments; and this he seems to have conceived to 
have been likewise the idea of Grotius, in the treatise 
De Jure Belli et Pads . 

“ It might have been expected,” says Mr. Smith, “ that 
the reasonings of lawyers upon the different imperfections 
and improvements of the laws of different countries, should 
have given occasion to an inquiry into what were the natural 
rules of justice, independent of all positive institution. It 


UHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


221 


might have been expected, that these reasonings should 
have led them to aim at establishing a system of what 
might properly be called Natural Jurisprudence, or a theo¬ 
ry of the principles which ought to run through, and to 
be the foundation of the laws of all nations . But though 
the reasonings of lawyers did produce something of this 
kind, and though no man has treated systematically of the 
laws of any particular country, without intermixing in his 
work many observations of this sort, it was very late in 
the world before any such general system was thought of, 
or before the philosophy of laws was treated of by itself, 
and without regard to the particular institutions of any 
nation. Grotius seems to have been the first who attempt¬ 
ed to give the world any thing like a system of those 
principles which ought to run through, and be the founda¬ 
tion of the laws of all nations ; and his Treatise of the 
Laws of Peace and War, with all its imperfections, is per¬ 
haps, at this day, the most complete work that has yet 
been given on the subject.” 

Whether this was, or was not, the leading object of 
Grotius, it is not material to decide; but if this was his ob¬ 
ject, it will not be disputed that he has executed his design 
in a very desultory manner, and that he often seems to 
have lost sight of it altogether, in the midst of those mis¬ 
cellaneous speculations on political, ethical, and historical 
subjects, which form so large a portion of his Treatise, 
and which so frequently succeed each other without any 
apparent connexion or common aim. ' 

1 “ Of what stamp,” says a most ingenious and original think¬ 
er. “ are the works of Grotius, Puffemlorff, and Burlamaqui ? 
Are they political or ethical, historical or juridical, expository 
or censorial ?—Sometimes one thing, sometimes another : they 
seem hardly to have settled the matter with themselves. Ben- 
tham’s Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation , 
p. 327. 

29 


222 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[PAKV 1. $ lit 


Nor do the views of Grotius appear always enlarged or 
just, even when he is pointing at the object described by 
Mr. Smith. The Roman system of Jurisprudence seems 
to have warped, in no inconsiderable degree, his notions on 
all questions connected with the theory of legislation, and to 
have diverted his attention from that philosophical idea of 
law, so well expressed by Cicero,—“ Non a praetoris 
edicto, neque a duodecim tabulis, sed penitus ex intima 
philosophia, hauriendam juris disciplinam.” In this idola¬ 
try, indeed, of the Roman law, he has not gone so far as 
some of his commentators, who have affirmed, that it is 
only a different name for the La\v of Nature ; but that his 
partiality for his professional pursuits has often led him to 
overlook the immense difference between the state of so¬ 
ciety in ancient and modern Europe, will not, I believe, be 
now disputed. It must, at the same time, be mentioned to 
his praise, that no writer appears to have been, in theory , 
more completely aware of the essential distinction between 
Natural and Municipal laws. In one of the paragraphs of 
his Prolegomena, he mentions it as a part of his genera! 
plan, to illustrate the Roman code, and to systematize those 
parts of it which have their origin in the Law of Nature. 
(S The task,” says he, “ of moulding it into the form of a 
system, has been projected by many, but hitherto accoin 
plished by none. Nor indeed was the thing possible, 
while so little attention was paid to the distinction between 
natural and positive institutions ; for the former being every 
w T here the same, may be easily traced to a few general 
principles, while the latter, exhibiting different appearances 
at different times, and in different places, elude every at¬ 
tempt towards methodical arrangement, no less than the in¬ 
sulated facts which individual objects present to our ex 
ternal senses.” 

This passage of Grotius has given great offence to two 
of the most eminent of his commentators, Henry and Samuel 


CHAP. XI.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


223 


de Cocceii, who have laboured much to vindicate Ihe Ro¬ 
man legislators against that indirect censure which the 
words of Grotius appear to convey. “ My chief object,” 
says the latter of those writers, “ was, by deducing the 
Roman law from its source in the nature of things, to recon¬ 
cile Natural Jurisprudence with the civil code; and, at the 
same time, to correct the supposition implied in the fore¬ 
going passage of Grotius, which is indeed one of the most 
exceptionable to be found in his work. The remarks oil 
this subject, scattered over the following commentary, the 
reader will find arranged in due order in my twelfth Pre¬ 
liminary Dissertation, the chief design of which is to sys¬ 
tematize the whole Roman law, and to demonstrate its beau¬ 
tiful coincidence with the Law of Nature.” In the exe¬ 
cution of this design, Cocceii must, I think, be allowed to 
have contributed a very useful supplement to the jurispru¬ 
dential labours of Grotius, the Dissertation in question 
being eminently distinguished by that distinct and lumi¬ 
nous method, the want of which renders the study of the 
treatise De Jure Belli et Pads so peculiarly irksome and 
unsatisfactory. 

The superstitious veneration for the Roman code ex¬ 
pressed by such writers as the Cccceii, will appear less won¬ 
derful, when we attend to the influence of the same preju¬ 
dice on the liberal and philosophical mind of Leibnitz; an 
author, who has not only gone so far as to compare the 
civil law (considered as a monument of human genius) with 
the remains of the ancient Greek geometry ; but has 
strongly intimated his dissent from the opinions of those 
who have represented its principles as being frequently at 
variance with the Law of Nature. In one very powerful 
paragraph, he expresses himself thus: “ I have often 
said, that, after the writings of geometricians, there exists 
nothing which, in point of strength, subtilty, and depths 


224 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part I. $ III. 


can be compared to tbe works of the Roman lawyers. 
And as it would be scarcely possible, from mere intrinsick 
evidence, to distinguish a demonstration of Euclid’s from 
one of Archimedes or of Apollonius (tbe style of all of 
them appearing no less uniform than if reason herself were 
speaking through their organs,) so also the Roman lawyers 
all resemble each other like twin brothers ; insomuch that, 
from the style alone of any particular opinion or argument, 
hardly any conjecture could be formed about its author. 
Nor are the traces of a refined and deeply meditated sys¬ 
tem of Natural Jurisprudence any where to be found more 
visible, or in greater abundance. And even in those cases 
where its principles are departed from, either in compli¬ 
ance with the language consecrated by technical forms, or 
in consequence of new statutes, or of ancient traditions, 
the conclusions which the assumed hypothesis renders it 
necessary to incorporate with the eternal dictates of right 
reason, are deduced with the soundest logick, and with an 
ingenuity that excites admiration. Nor are these devia¬ 
tions from the Law of Nature so frequent as is common¬ 
ly apprehended. 99 

In the last sentence of this passage, Leibnitz had pro¬ 
bably an eye to the works of Grotius and his followers; 
which, however narrow and timid in their views they may 
now appear, were, for a long time, regarded among civi¬ 
lians as savouring somewhat of theoretical innovation, and 
of political heresy. 

To all this may be added, as a defect still more impor¬ 
tant and radical in the systems of Natural Jurisprudence 
considered as models of universal legislation, that their au¬ 
thors reason concerning laws too abstractedly, without 
specifying the particular circumstances of the society to 
which they mean that their conclusions should be applied. 
It is very justly observed by Mr. Bentham, that, “ if there 


chap* n.J FIRST DISSERTATION. 225 

are any books of universal Jurisprudence, they must be 
looked for within very narrow limits.” He certainly, 
however, carries this idea too far, when he asserts, that 
“ to be susceptible of an universal application, all that a 
book of the expository kind can have to treat of, is the im¬ 
port of words; and that, to be strictly speaking univer¬ 
sal, it must confine itself to terminology; that is, to an ex¬ 
planation of such words connected with law, as power , 
right , obligation , liberty, to which are words pretty ex¬ 
actly correspondent in all languages.” 1 * 3 His expressions, 
too, are somewhat unguarded, when he calls the Law of 
Nature “ an obscure phantom, which, in the imaginations 
of those who go in chase of it, points sometimes to man¬ 
ners, sometimes to laws , sometimes to what law is, some¬ 
times to what it ought to be. 2 Nothing, indeed, can be 
more exact and judicious than this description, when re¬ 
stricted to the Law of Nature, as commonly treated of 
by writers on Jurisprudence ; but if extended to the Law 
of Nature , as originally understood among ethical writers, 
it is impossible to assent to it, without abandoning all the 
principles on which the science of morals ultimately rests. 
With these obvious, but, in my opinion, very essential 
limitations, I perfectly agree with Mr. Bentham, in consi¬ 
dering an abstract code of laws as a thing equally unphi- 
losophical in the design, and useless in the execution. 

In stating these observations, I would not be understood 
to dispute the utility of turning the attention of students 
to a comparative view of the municipal institutions of dif¬ 
ferent nations ; but only to express my doubts whether 
this can be done with advantage, by referring these insti¬ 
tutions to that abstract theory called the Law of Nature, 

1 Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation , p 

323. 

3 Ibid. p. 327, 



226 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[■vAnr i. § in 


as to a common standard. The code of some particular 
country must be fixed on as a groundwork for our specu¬ 
lations ; and its laws studied, not as consequences of any 
abstract principles of justice, but in their connexion with 
the circumstances of the people among whom they originat¬ 
ed. A comparison of these laws with the corresponding 
laws of other nations, considered also in their connexion 
with the circumstances whence they arose, would form a 
branch of study equally interesting and useful ; not mere¬ 
ly to those who have in view the profession of law, but to 
all who receive the advantages of a liberal education. In 
fixing on such a standard, the preference must undoubted¬ 
ly be given to the Roman law, if for no other reason than 
this, that its technical language is more or less incorporat¬ 
ed with all our municipal regulations in this part of the 
world : and the study of this language, as well as of the 
other technical parts of Jurisprudence (so revolting to the 
taste when considered as the arbitrary jargon of a philo¬ 
sophical theory,) w T ould possess sufficient attractions to ex¬ 
cite the curiosity, when considered as a necessary passport 
to a knowledge of that system, which so long determin¬ 
ed the rights of the greatest and most celebrated of na¬ 
tions. 

“Universal grammar,” says Dr. Lowth, “cannot be 
taught abstractedly; it must be done with reference to 
some language already known, in which the terms are to be 
explained and the rules exemplified.” 1 The same obser¬ 
vation may be applied (and for reasons strikingly analo¬ 
gous) to the science of Natural or Universal Jurispru¬ 
dence. 

Of the truth of this last proposition Bacon seems to 
have been fully aware; and it was manifestly some ideas 


1 Preface to his English Grammar. 


CHAP. It. 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


227 


of the same kind which gave birth to Montesquieu’s histo¬ 
rical speculations with respect to the origin of laws, and the 
reference which they may be expected to bear, in differ¬ 
ent parts of the world, to the physical and moral circum 
stances of the nations among whom they have sprung up. 
During this long interval, it would be difficult to name any 
intermediate writer, by whom the important considerations 
just stated were duly attended to. 

In touching formerly on some of Bacon’s ideas concern¬ 
ing the philosophy of law, I quoted a few of the most 
prominent of those fortunate anticipations, so profusely 
scattered over his works, which, outstripping the ordinary 
march of human reason, associate his mind with the lumi¬ 
naries of the eighteenth century, rather than with his own 
contemporaries. These anticipations, as well as many 
others of a similar description, hazarded by his bold yet 
prophetick imagination, have often struck me as resem 
bling the pierres d’attenle jutting out from the corners 
of an ancient building, and inviting the fancy to complete 
what was left unfinished of the architect’s design;—or the 
slight and broken sketches traced on the skirts of an 
American map, to connect its chains of hills and branches 
of rivers with some future survey of the contiguous wil¬ 
derness. Yielding to such impressions, and eager to pur¬ 
sue the rapid flight of his genius, let me abandon for a mo 
ment the order of time, while I pass from the Fontes Ju¬ 
ris to the Spirit of Laws. To have a just conception of 
the comparatively limited views of Grotius, it is neces 
sary to attend to what was planned by his immediate pre¬ 
decessor, and first executed (or rather first begun to be 
executed) by one of his remote successors. 

The main object of the Spirit of Laws (it is necessary 
here to premise) is to show, not, as has been frequently sup- 


228 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. $ III. 


posed, what laws ought to be,—but how the diversities in 
the physical and moral circumstances of the human race 
have contributed to produce diversities in their political es¬ 
tablishments, and in their municipal regulations. 1 On 
this point, indeed, an appeal may be made to the author 
himself. “ I write not,” says he, “ to censure any thing 
established in any country whatsoever; every nation will 
here find the reasons on which its maxims are founded.” 
This plan, however, which, when understood with proper 
limitations, is highly philosophical, and which raises Juris¬ 
prudence, from the uninteresting and useless state in which 
we find it in Grotius and PuffendorfF, to be one of the most 
agreeable and important branches of useful knowledge (al¬ 
though the execution of it occupies by far the greater part 
of his work,) is prosecuted by Montesquieu in so very 
desultory a manner, that I am inclined to think he rather 
fell into it insensibly, in consequence of the occasional 
impulse of accidental curiosity, than from any regular de¬ 
sign he had formed to himself when he began to collect 
materials for that celebrated performance. He seems, in¬ 
deed, to confess this in the following passage of his pre¬ 
face : “ Often have I begun, and as often laid aside, this 
undertaking. I have followed my observations without 
any fixed plan, and without thinking either of rules or ex¬ 
ceptions. I have found the truth only to lose it again.” 

But whatever opinion we may form on this point, Mon¬ 
tesquieu enjoys an unquestionable claim to the grand idea 
of connecting Jurisprudence with History and Philosophy, 

1 This, though somewhat ambiguously expressed, must , I think, 
have been the idea of D’Alembert, in the following sentence: 
“ Dans cet ouvrage, M. de Montesquieu s’occupe moins des loix 
qu’on a faites, que de celles qu’on a du faire.” (Eloge de M. de 
Montesquieu.) According to the most obvious interpretation of 
his words, they convey a meaning which 1 conceive to be the 
very reverse of the truth. 


CHAP. II.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


229 


in such a manner as to render them all subservient to their 
mutual illustration. Some occasional disquisitions of the 
same kind may, it is true, be traced in earlier writers, par¬ 
ticularly in the works of Bodinus; but they are of a na¬ 
ture too trifling to detract from the glory of Montesquieu. 
When we compare the jurisprudential researches of the 
latter with the systems previously in possession of the 
schools, the step which he made appears to have been so 
vast, as almost to justify the somewhat too ostentatious mot¬ 
to prefixed to them by the author; Prolem sine Matre 
creatam. Instead of confining hirnself, after the example 
of his predecessors, to an interpretation of one part of the 
Roman code by another, he studied the Spirit of these 
laws in the political views of their authors, and in the pe¬ 
culiar circumstances of that extraordinary race. He com¬ 
bined the science of law with the history of political so¬ 
ciety, employing the latter to account for the varying aims 
of the legislator ; and the former, in its turn, to explain 
the nature of the government, and the manners of the peo¬ 
ple. Nor did he limit his inquiries to the Roman law, and 
to Roman history ; but, convinced that the general princi¬ 
ples of human nature are every where the same, he search¬ 
ed for new lights among the subjects of every government, 
and the inhabitants of every climate; and, while he thus 
opened inexhaustible and unthought of resources to the 
student of Jurisprudence, he indirectly marked out to the 
legislator the extent and the limits of his power, and re¬ 
called the attention of the philosopher from abstract and 
useless theories, to the only authentick monuments of the 
history of mankind . 1 

1 As examples of Montesquieu’s peculiar and characteristical 
style of thinking in The Spirit of Laws , may be mentioned his 
Observations on the Origin and Revolutions of the Roman Laws on 
Successions ; and what he has written on the History of the Civil 

30 


230 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part i. j m 


This view of law, which unites History and Philosophy 
with Jurisprudence, has been followed out with remarkable 
success by various authors since Montesquieu’s time ; and 
for a considerable number of years after the publication of 
the Spirit of Laws , became so very fashionable (particu- 
larly in this country,) that many seem to have considered 
it, not as a step towards a farther end, but as exhausting 
the whole science of Jurisprudence. For such a conclu¬ 
sion there is undoubtedly some foundation, so long as we 
confine our attention to the ruder periods of society, in 
which governments and laws may be universally regarded 
as the gradual result of time and experience, of circum¬ 
stances and emergencies. In enlightened ages, however, 
there cannot be a doubt, that political wisdom comes in for 
its share in the administration of human affairs; and there 
is reasonable ground for hoping, that its influence will con¬ 
tinue to increase, in proportion as the principles of legislation 
are more generally studied and understood. To suppose 
the contrary, would reduce us to be mere spectators of the 
progress and decline of society, and put an end to every 
species of patriotick exertion. 

Montesquieu’s own aim in his historical disquisitions, was 
obviously much more deep and refined. In various instan¬ 
ces, one would almost think he had in his mind the very 
shrewd aphorism of Lord Coke, that, “ to trace an errour 
to its fountain-head, is to refute it—a species of refuta¬ 
tion, which, as Mr. Bentham has well remarked, is, with 
many understandings, the only one that has any weight . 1 

Laws in his own Country; above all, his Theory of the Feudal 
Laws among the Franks , considered in relation to the revolutions 
of their monarchy. On many points connected with these re¬ 
searches, his conclusions have been since controverted; but 
all bis successors have agreed in acknowledging him as their 
common master and guide. 

1 “ If our ancestors have been all along under a mistake , how 
came they to have fallen into it ? is a question that naturally occur* 


MiAP. II.J 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


231 


To men prepossessed with a blind veneration for the wis¬ 
dom of antiquity, and strongly impressed with a conviction 
that every thing they see around them is the result of the 
legislative wisdom of their ancestors, the very existence of 
a legal principle, or of an established custom, becomes an 
argument in its favour; and an argument to which no reply 
can be made, but by tracing it to some acknowledged preju¬ 
dice, or to a form of society so different from that existing 
at present, that the same considerations which serve to ac¬ 
count for its first origin, demonstrate indirectly the expedi¬ 
ency of now accommodating it to the actual circumstances 
of mankind. According to this view of the subject, the 
speculations of Montesquieu were ultimately directed to the 
same practical conclusion with that pointed out in the pro- 
phetick suggestions of Bacon ; aiming, however, at this ob¬ 
ject, by a process more circuitous ; and, perhaps, on that 
account, the more likely to be effectual. The plans of 
both have been since combined with extraordinary sagaci- 
ty, by some of the later writers on Political Economy ; 1 

upon all such occasions. The case is, that, in matters of law 
more especially, such is the dominion of authority over our 
minds, and such the prejudice it creates in favour of whatever in¬ 
stitution it has taken under its wing, that, after all manner of rea¬ 
sons that can be thought of in favour of the institution have been 
shewn to be insufficient, we still cannot forbear looking to some un¬ 
assignable and latent reason foritsefficientcause. But if, instead of 
any such reason, we can find a cause for it in some notion, of the 
erroneousness of which we are already satisfied, then at last we are 
content to give it up without further struggle ; and then, and not 
till then, our satisfaction is complete.” Defence of Usury , pp. 
94,95. 

1 Above all, by Mr. Smith; who, in his Wealth of Nations , has 
judiciously and skilfully combined with the investigation of gene¬ 
ral principles, the most luminous sketches of Theoretical History 
relative to that form of political society, which has given 
birth to so many of the institutions and customs peculiar to mo¬ 
dern Europe.—“ The strong ray of philosophick light on this in¬ 
teresting subject,” which, according to Gibbon, “ broke from 


232 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part X. § III. 


but with their systems we have no concern in the present 
section. I shall therefore only remark, in addition to the 
foregoing observations, the peculiar utility of these research¬ 
es concerning the history of laws, in repressing the folly 
of sudden and violent innovation, by illustrating the re¬ 
ference which laws must necessarily have to the actual 
circumstances of a people,—and the tendency which natu¬ 
ral causes have to improve gradually and progressively the 
condition of mankind, under every government which allows 
them to enjoy the blessings of peace and of liberty. 

The well merited popularity of the Spirit of Laws gave 
the first fatal blow to the study of Natural Jurisprudence ; 
partly by the proofs which, in every page, the work afford¬ 
ed, of the absurdity of all schemes of Universal Legisla¬ 
tion ; and partly by the attractions which it possessed, in 
point of eloquence and taste, when contrasted with the in¬ 
supportable dulness of the systems then in possession of 
the schools. It is remarkable, that Montesquieu has never 
once mentioned the name of Grotius ;—in this , probably, 
as in numberless other instances, conceiving it to be less 
expedient to attack established prejudices openly and in 
front, than gradually to undermine the unsuspected errours 
upon which they rest. 

If the foregoing details should appear tedious to some of 
iny readers, I must request them to recollect, that they re¬ 
late to a science which, for much more than a hundred 
years, constituted the whole philosophy, both ethical and 
political, of the largest portion of civilized Europe. With 

Scotland in our times,” was but a reflection , though with a far 
steadier and more concentrated force, from the scattered but bril¬ 
liant sparks kindled by the genius of Montesquieu. 1 shall after¬ 
wards have occasion to take notice of the mighty influence which 
his writings have had on the subsequent history of Scotish litera 
lure. 


CHAP. 1!.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


233 


respect to Germany, in particular, it appears from the 
Count de Hertzberg, that this science continued to maintain 
its undisputed ground, till it was supplanted by that grow 
ing passion for Statistical details, which, of late, has given 
a direction so different, and in some respects so opposite, 
to the studies of his countrymen. 1 

When from Germany we turn our eyes to the south of 
Europe, the prospect seems not merely sterile, but afflict¬ 
ing and almost hopeless. Of Spanish literature I know 
nothing but through the medium of Translations ; a very 
imperfect one, undoubtedly, when a judgment is to be pass¬ 
ed on compositions addressed to the powers of imagination 
and taste; yet fully sufficient to enable us to form an esti¬ 
mate of works which treat of science and philosophy. On 
such subjects, it may be safely concluded, that whatever 
is unfit to stand the test of a literal version, is not worth the 
trouble of being studied in the original. The progress of 
the Mind in Spain during the seventeenth century, we may 
therefore confidently pronounce, if not entirely suspended, 
to have been too inconsiderable to merit attention. 

“The only good book,” says Montesquieu, “which the 
Spaniards have to boast of, is that which exposes the ab¬ 
surdity of all the rest.” In this remark, I have little doubt 
that there is a considerable sacrifice of truth to the point¬ 
ed effect of an antithesis. The unqualified censure, at the 
same time, of this great man, is not unworthy of notice, as 
a strong expression of his feelings with respect to the 
general insignificance of the Spanish writers. 

1 “ La connoissance des etats qu’on se plait aujourd hui d ap- 
peller Statistique, est une de ces sciences qui sont devenues ala 
mode, et qui ont pris une vogue generate depuis quelques annees; 
elle a presquedepossede celle du Droit Public, qui regnoit ail com 
mencement et jusques vers le milieu du siecle present” Reflex¬ 
ions sur la Force des Etats . Par M. le Comte de Hertzberg 
Berlin, 1782. 


234 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[pAnf i. $ in. 


The inimitable work here referred to by Montesquieu, 
is itself entitled to a place in this Discourse, not only as 
one of the happiest and most wonderful creations of Human 
fancy, but as the record of a force of character, and an en¬ 
largement of mind, which, when contrasted with the preju¬ 
dices of the author’s age and nation, seem almost miracu¬ 
lous. It is not merely against Books of Chivalry that the 
satire of Cervantes is directed. Many other follies and 
absurdities of a less local and temporary nature have their 
share in his ridicule ; while not a single expression escapes 
his pen that can give offence to the most fastidious moral¬ 
ist. Hence those amusing and interesting contrasts by 
which Cervantes so powerfully attaches us to the hero of 
his story; chastising the wildest freaks of a disordered im- 
agination, by a stateliness yet courtesy of virtue, and (on 
all subjects but one) by a superiority of good sense and of 
philosophical refinement, which, even under the most ludi¬ 
crous circumstances, never cease to command our respect 
and to keep alive our sympathy.. 

In Italy, notwithstanding the persecution undergone by 
Galileo, physicks and astronomy continued to be cultivated 
with success by Torricelli, Borelli, Cassini, and others ; 
and in pure geometry, Yiviani rose to the very first emi 
nence, as the Restorer, or rather as the Diviner of ancient 
discoveries ; but, in all those studies which require the ani¬ 
mating spirit of civil and religious liberty, this once renown¬ 
ed country exhibited the most melancholy symptoms of 
mental decrepitude. “ Rome,” says a French historian, 
“ was too much interested in maintaining her principles, 
not to raise every imaginable barrier against what might 
destroy them. Hence that index of prohibited books, in¬ 
to which were put the history of the President de Thou ; 
the works on the liberties of the Gallican church ; and (who 
could have believed it?) the translations of the Holy Scrip- 


C!UP. IX.] 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


235 


lures. Meanwhile, this tribunal, though always ready to 
condemn judicious authors upon frivolous suspicions of 
heresy, approved those sedilious and fanatical theologists, 
whose writings tended to the encouragement of regicide, 
and the destruction of government. The approbation and 
censure of books (it is justly added) deserve a place in the 
history of the human mind. ,, 

The great glory of the Continent, towards the end of the 
seventeenth century (I except only the philosophers of 
France) was Leibnitz. He was born as early as 1646; 
and distinguished himself, while still a very young man, by 
a display of those talents which were afterwards to contend 
with the united powers of Clarke and of Newton. I have 
already introduced his name among the writers on Natural 
Law ; but, in every other respect, he ranks more fitly with 
the contemporaries of his old age than with those of his 
youth. My reasons for thinking so will appear in the se¬ 
quel. In the mean time, it may suffice to remark, that 
Leibnitz, the Jurist, belongs to one century, and Leibnitz, 
the Philosopher, to another. 

In this, and other analogous distributions of my materi¬ 
als, as well as in the order I have followed in the arrange¬ 
ment of particular facts, it may be proper, once for all, to 
observe, that much must necessarily be left to the discre¬ 
tionary, though not to the arbitrary decision of the au¬ 
thor’s judgment;—that the dates which separate from each 
other the different stages in the progress of'Human Reason, 
do not, like those which occur in the history of the exact 
sciences, admit of being fixed with chronological and indis¬ 
putable precision ; while, in adjusting the perplexed rights 
of the innumerable claimants in this intellectual and sha¬ 
dowy region, a task is imposed on the writer, resembling not 
unfrequently the labour of him , who should have attempt¬ 
ed to circumscribe, by mathematical lines, the melting and 
intermingling colours of Arachne’s w r eb; 


FIRST DISSERTATION. 


[part 1. 5 111. 




In quo diversi niteant cum mille colores, 

Transitus ipse tamen spectantia lumina fallunt, 

Usque adeo quod tangit idem est, tamen ultima distant. 

But I will not add to the number (already too great) of 
the foregoing pages, by anticipating, and attempting to ob¬ 
viate, the criticisms to which they may be liable. Nor 
will I dissemble the confidence with which, amid a variety 
of doubts and misgivings, I look forward to the candid in¬ 
dulgence of those who are best fitted to appreciate the diffi¬ 
culties of my undertaking. I am certainly not prepared 
to say with Johnson, that “ I dismiss my work with frigid 
indifference, and that to me success and miscarriage are emp¬ 
ty sounds.” My feelings are more in unison with those 
expressed by the same writer in the conclusion of the ad¬ 
mirable preface to his edition of Shakspeare. One of his 
reflections, more particularly, falls in so completely with 
the train of my own thoughts, that I cannot forbear, before 
laying down the pen, to offer it to the consideration of ray 
readers. 

“ Perhaps I may not be more censured for doing wrong, 
than for doing little ; for raising in the publick, expectations, 
which at last I have not answered. The expectation of ig¬ 
norance is indefinite, and that of knowledge is often tyran¬ 
nical. It is hard to satisfy those who know not what to de¬ 
mand, or those who demand by design what they think im¬ 
possible to be done.” 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The chief purpose of these Notes and Illustrations, is to verify 
some of the more important views contained in the foregoing 
Historical Sketch. The errours into which 1 have frequently 
been led by trusting to the information of writers, who, in de¬ 
scribing philosophical systems, profess to give merely the gene¬ 
ral results of their researches, unauthenticated by particular re¬ 
ferences to the original sources, have long convinced me of the 
propriety, on such occasions, of bringing uuder the eye of the 
reader, the specifick authorities on which my statements proceed. 
Without such a check, the most faithful historian is perpetually 
liable to the suspicion of accommodating facts to his favourite 
theories; or of unconsciously blending with the opinions he as¬ 
cribes to others, the glosses of his own imagination. The quo¬ 
tations in the following pages, selected principally from books 
not now in general circulation, may, I hope, at the same time, 
be useful in facilitating the labours of those who shall hereafter 
resume the same subject, on a scale more susceptible of the mi¬ 
nuteness of literary detail. 

For a few short biographical digressions, with which I have 
endeavoured to give somewhat of interest and relief to the ab¬ 
stract and unattractive topicks which occupy so great a part of 
my discourse, I flatter myself that no apology is necessary; 
more especially, as these digressions will, in general, be found 
to thow some additional light on the philosophical or the politi¬ 
cal principles of the individuals to whom they relate. 


Note A, p. 37. 

✓ 

Sir Thomas More, though, towards the close of his life, he 
became “ a persecutor even unto blood, defiling with cruelties 
those hands which were never polluted with bribes,”' was, in his 


1 Burnet. 

31 




238 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS* 


earlier and better days, eminently distinguished by the humanity 
of his temper, and the liberality of his opinions. Abundant 
proofs of this may be collected from his letters to Erasmus; and 
from the sentiments, both religious and political, indirectly in¬ 
culcated in his Utojtia. In contempt for the ignorance and pro¬ 
fligacy of the monks, he was not surpassed by his correspondent; 
and against various superstitions of the Romish church, such as 
the celibacy of priests, and the use of images in worship, he 
has expressed himself more decidedly than could well have been 
expected from a man placed in his circumstances. But these 
were not the whole of his merits. His ideas on Criminal Law 
lire still quoted with respect by the advocates for a milder code 
than has yet been introduced into this country; and, on the 
subject of toleration, no modern politician has gone farther than 
his Utopian Legislators. 

The disorders occasioned by the rapid progress of the Refor¬ 
mation, having completely shaken his faith in the sanguine spe¬ 
culations of his youth, seem at length, by alarming his fears as 
to the fate of existing establishments, to have unhinged his un¬ 
derstanding, and perverted his moral feelings. The case was 
somewhat the same with his friend Erasmus, who (as Jortin re- 
marks) “ began in his old days to act the zealot and the mis- 
eionary with an ill grace, and to maintain, that there were cer¬ 
tain hereticks, who might be put to death as blasphemers and 
rioters.” (pp. 428, 481.) In the mind of Erasmus, other motives, 
it is not improbable, concurred; his biographer and apologist 
being forced to acknowledge that “ he was afraid lest Francis, 
and Charles, and Ferdinand, and George, and Henry VIII, and 
other persecuting princes, should suspect that he condemned 
their cruel conduct.” Ibid, p. 481. 

Something, it must at the same time be observed, may be 
alleged in behalf of these two illustrious persons; not , indeed, 
in extenuation of their unpardonable defection from the cause of 
religious liberty, but of their estrangement from some of their old 
friends, who scrupled not to consider, as apostates and traitors, 
all those who, while they acknowledged the expediency of ec¬ 
clesiastical reform, did not approve of the violent measures em¬ 
ployed for the accomplishment of that object. A very able and 
candid argument on this point may be found in Bayie, Article 
Castellan 3 Mote Q. 

Note B, p. 39. 

The following short extract will serve to convey a general 
idea of Calvin’s argument upon the subject of usury. 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


239 


''Pecunia non parit pecuniam. Quid mare ? quid domus, ex 
cujus locatione pensionem percipio ? an ex tectis et parietibus 
argentum proprie nascitur? Sed et terra producit, et mari adve- 
liitur quod pecuniam deinde producat, et habitationia cornmoditas 
cum certa pecunia parari commutarive solet. Quod si igitur 
plus ex negotiatione lucri percipi possit, quam ex fundi cujusvis 
proventu: an feretur qui fHndum sterilem fortasae colono locave- 
rit ex quo mercedem vel proventuin recipiat sibi, qui ex pecunia 
fructum aliquern perceperit, non ferelur ? et qui pecunia fundurn 
acquirit, annon pecunia ilia generat alteram annuam pecuniam? 
Unde vero mercatoris lucrum ? Ex ipsius, inquies, diligentia at- 
que industria. Quis dubitat pecuniam vacuam inutilern omnino 
esse ? neque qui a me mutuam rogat, vacuam apud se habere a 
me acceptam cogitat. Non ergo ex pecunia ilia lucrum accedit, 
sed ex proventu. lllae igitur rationes subtiles quidem sunt, et 
speciem quandam habent, sed ubi propius expenduntur, reipsa 
concidunt. Nunc igitur concludo, judicandum de usuris esse, 
non ex particulari aliquo Scripturae loco, sed tantum ex aequitatis 
regula.” Calvini Epistolae . 


Note C, p. 54. 

The prevailing idea among Machiavel’s contemporaries and 
immediate successors certainly was, that the design of the Prince 
was hostile to the rights of mankind; and that the author was 
either entirely unprincipled, or adapted his professed opinions to 
the varying circumstances of his own eventful life. The follow¬ 
ing are the words of Bodinus, born in 1530, the very year when 
Machiavel died; an author whose judgment will have no small 
weight with those who are acquainted with his political writings: 
“ Machiavel s’estbien fort mesconte, de dire que l’estat popuiaire 
est le meilfeur: 1 et neantmoins ayant oublie sa premiere opinion, 
il a tenu en un autre lieu, 2 que pour restituer 1’Italie en sa liberte, 
il faut qu’il n’y ait qu’uu Prince ; et de fait, il s’est efforce de 
former un estat le plus tyrannique du monde; et en autre lieu 3 
il confesse, que Testat de Venice est le plus beau de tous, le- 
quel est une pure Aristocratie, s’il en futonques : tellement qu’il 
ne scait a quoi se tenir.” ( De la Republiquc , Liv. vi, chap. iv. 
Paris, 1576.) In the Latin version of the above passage, the au¬ 
thor applies to Machiavel the, Homo levissimus ac neqitissimus. 

One of the earliest apologists for Machiavel was Albericus 
Gentilis, an Italian author, oT whom some account will be given 

* Discourses upon Livy. 2 Prince , Booki, c. ix. 

3 Discourses upon Livy. 


240 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 


afterwards. His words are these: “ Machiavel, a warm pane¬ 
gyrist and keen assertor of democracy; born, educated, promoted 
under a republican government, was in the highest possible de¬ 
gree hostile to tyranny. The scope of his work, accordingly, is 
not to instruct tyrants ; but, on the contrary, by disclosing their 
secrets to their oppressed subjects, to expose them to publick 
view, stripped of all their trappings.” He afterwards adds, that 
“ MachiavePs real design was, under the mask of giving les¬ 
sons to sovereigns, to open the eyes of the people; and that he 
assumed this mask in the hope of thereby securing a freer circu¬ 
lation to his doctrines.” (De Lcgationibus, Lib, iii, c. ix. Lond. 
1585.) The same idea was afterwards adopted and zealously con¬ 
tended for by Wicquefort, the author of a noted book entitled the 
Ambassador ; and by many other writers of a later date. Bayle, in 
his Dictionary , has stated ably and impartially the arguments on 
both sides of the question; evidently leaning however very de¬ 
cidedly, in his own opinion, to that of MachiavePs Apologists. 

The following passage from the excellent work of M. Simonde 
de Sismondi on the Literature of the South, appears to me to 
approach very near to the truth, in the estimate it contains both 
of the spirit of the Prince , and of the character of the author. 
“ The real object of Machiavel cannot have been to confirm 
upon the throne a tyrant whom he detested, and against whom 
he had already conspired ; nor is it more probable that he had a 
design to expose to the people the maxims of tyranny, in order 
to render them odious. Universal experience made them at that 
time sufficiently known to all Italy; and that infernal policy 
which Machiavel reduced to principles, was, in the sixteenth 
century, practised by every government. There is rather, in 
his manner of treating it, a universal bitterness against mankind ; 
a contempt of the whole human race; which makes him address 
them in the language to which they had debased themselves. 
He speaks to the interests of men, and to their selfish calcula¬ 
tions, as if he thought it useless to appeal to their enthusiasm or 
to their moral feelings.” 

I agree perfectly with M. de Sismondi in considering the two 
opposite hypotheses referred to in the above extract, as alike 
untenable; and have only to add to his remarks, that, in writing 
the Prince , the author seems to have been more under the in¬ 
fluence of spleen, of ill humour, and of blasted hopes, than of 
any deliberate or systematical purpose, either favourable or ad¬ 
verse to human happiness. The prevailing sentiment in his 
inind probably was, Si populus vnlt dccipi , dccipiatur . 1 

1 Many traces of this misanthropick disposition occur in the his¬ 
torical aod even in the dramatick works of Machiavel. It is very 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


241 


According to this view of the subject, MachiavePs Prince , in¬ 
stead ot being considered as a new system of political morality, 
invented by himself, ought to be regarded merely as a digest of 
the maxims of state policy then universally acted upon in the 
Italian courts. If I be not mistaken, it was in this light that 
the book was regarded by Lord Bacon, whose opinion concern¬ 
ing it being, in one instance, somewhat ambiguously expressed, 
has been supposed by several writers of note (particularly Bayle 
and Mr. Roscoe) to have coincided with that quoted above from 
Albericus Gentilis. To me it appears, that the very turn of 
the sentence appealed to on this occasion is rather disrespectful 
than otherwise to MachiavePs character. u Est itaquequod gra- 
tias agamus Machiavellio et hvjusmodi scriptoribns , qui aperte 
et indissirnulanter proferunt, quid homines facere soleant, non 
quid debeant.” ( De Aug. Scieni. Lib. vii, cap. ii.) The best 
comment, however, on these words, is to be found in another 
passage of Bacon, where he has expressed his opinion of Ma¬ 
chiavePs moral demerits in terms as strong and unenuivocal as 
language can furnish. “ Quod enim ad malas artes attinet; si 
quis Machiavellio se dederit in disciplinam; qui praecipit,” &o. 
&c. &c. See the rest of the paragraph (De Aug. Scicnt. Lib. viii, 
cap. ii.) See also a passage in Book vii, chap, viii, beginning 
thus : “ An non et hoc veruni est, juvenes multo minus Politicos 
quam Ethicac auditores idoneos esse, antequam religione et doctri 
na de moribus et officiis plene imbuantur; ne forte judicio depra- 
vati et corrupt!, in earn opinionem veniant, non esse rerum diffe- 
rentias morales veras et solidas, sed omnia ex utilitate.—Sic enim 
Machiavellio dicere placet. Quod si conligissct Cacsarem hello 
superatum fuisse, Catilina ipso fuisset odiosior” &e. &c. After 
these explicit and repeated declarations of his sentiments on 
this point, it is hard that Bacon should have been numbered 
among the apologists of Machiavel, by such high authorities a# 
Bayle, and the excellent biographer of Lorenzo de Medicis. 


Note D, p. GO. 

The charge of plagiarism from Bodin has been urged some¬ 
what indelicately against Montesquieu, by a very respectable 
writer, the Chevalier de Filangieri. “ On a cru, et Ton croit 
peut-etre encore, que Montesquieu, a parle le premier de Pinfiu- 
ence du climat. Cette opinion est une erreur. Avant lui, le 
delicat et ingenieux Fontenelle s'etoit exerce sur set objet. Ma- 

justly observed by M. deSismondi, that “ the pleasantry of his come¬ 
dies is almost always mingled with gall. His laughter at the human 
race is but the laughter of contempt.” 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


242 


ehiavel, en plusieurs endroils de ses ouvrages, parle aussi de 
cette influence du climat sur le physique et sur le moral des peu- 
pies. Chardin, un de ces voyageurs qui savent observer, a fait 
beaucoup de reflexions sur i’influeuce physique et moral 
<les climats. L’Abbe Dubos a soutenu et developpe les pen- 
sees de Chardin; et Bodin, qui peut-etre avoit iu dans Polybe 
que le climat determine les formes, la couleur, et les rnoeurs des 
peuples, en avoit deja fait, cent cinquante ans auparavant, la 
base de son sysieme, dans sou livre de la Kepublique, et dans sa 
Methode de 1’Histoire. Avant tous ces ecrivains, limmortel 
Hippocrate avoit traite fort au long cette matiere dans son fa- 
meux ouvrage de lair , des eaux, et des lieux. L’Auteur de l’Esprit 
des Lois, sans citer un seul de ces philosophes, etablit a son tour 
un systeme ; mais ii ne fit qu’alterer le3 principes d’Hippocrate, 
et donner une plus grande extension aux idees de Dubos, de 
Chardin, et de Bodin. il voulutfaire croire au public qu’il avoit 
eu le premier quelques idees sur ce sujet; et le public Ten crut 
sur sa parole.” La Science de La Legislation , ouvrage traduit de 
Vltalien. Paris, 1786. Tom. 1, pp. 225, 226. 

The enumeration here given of writers whose works are in 
every body’s hands, might have satisfied Filangieri, that, in giv¬ 
ing his sanction to this old theory, Montesquieu had no wish to 
claim to himself the praise of originality. It is surprising, that, 
iu the foregoing list, the name of Plato should have been omitted, 
who concludes his fifth book, De Legibus , with remarking, that 
“all countries are not equally susceptible of the same sort of 
discipline; and that a wise legislator will pay a due regard to 
the diversity of national character, arising from the influence 
of climate and of soil.” It rs not less surprising, that the name 
of Charron should have been overlooked, whose observations 
on the moral influence of physical causes, discover as much ori¬ 
ginality of thought as those of any of his successors. See De la 
Sagesse, Livre i, chap, xxxvii. 


Note E, p. 70. 

Innumerable instances of Luther’s credulity and superstition 
are to be found in a book entitled Martini Lutkeri C olio quia 
Mcnsalia, Szc. first published (according to Bayle) in 1571. The 
only copy of it which I have seen, is a translation from the 
German into the English tongue by Captain Henrie Bell. (Lon¬ 
don, 1652.) This work, in which are “gathered up the frag¬ 
ments of the divine discourses which Luther held at his table 
with Philip Melanchthon, and divers other learned men,” bears 
to have been originally collected “ out of his holy mouth” by 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 


243 


Dr. Anthony Lauterbach, and to have been afterwards “ digest¬ 
ed into commonplaces” by Dr. Aurifaber. Although not sanc¬ 
tioned with Luther’s name, 1 do not know that the slightest 
douiJts of its details have been suggested, even by such of his 
followers as have regretted the indiscreet communication to the 
publick, of his unreserved table talk with his confidential com¬ 
panions. The very accurate Seckendorff has not called in ques¬ 
tion its authenticity; but, on the contrary, gives it his indirect 
sauctiou, by remarking, that it was collected with little pru¬ 
dence, and not less imprudently printed : “ Libro Colloquiorum 
Mensalium minus quidem caute composito et vuigato.” (Bayle, 
Article Luther, Note L.) It is very often quoted as an autho¬ 
rity by the candid and judicious Dr. Jortin. 

In confirmation of what I have said of Luther’s credulity, 

I shall transcribe, in the words of the English translator, the 
substance of one of Luther’s Divine Discourses , “ concerning 
the devil and his works.” “The devil (said Luther) can trans¬ 
form himself into the shape of a man or a woman, and so de- 
ceiveth people; insomuch that one thinketh he Iieth by a right 
woman, and yet is no such matter; for, as St. Paul saith, the 
devil is strong by the child of unbelief. But insomuch as chil¬ 
dren or devils are conceived in such sort, the same are very 
horrible and fearful examples. Like unto this it is also with 
what they call the Nix in the water, who draweth people unto 
him as maids and virgins, of whom he begetteth devil’s chil¬ 
dren. The devil can also steal children away; as sometimes, 
children within the space of six weeks after their birth are lost, 
and other children called supposititii , or changelings, laid in 
their places. Of the Saxons they were called Killcrops. 

“ Eight years since,” said Luther, “ at Dessau , I did see and 
touch such a changed child, which was twelve years of age; 
he had his eyes, and all members, like another child; he did 
nothing but feed, and would eat as much as two clowns were 
able to eat. 1 told the Prince of Anhalt, if I were prince of that 
country, I would venture homicidium thereon, and would throw 
it into the river Moldaw. I admonished the people dwelling in 
that place devoutly to pray to God to take away the devil. The 
same was done accordingly, and the second year after the 
changeling died. 

“ In Saxony, near unto Halberstad, was a man that also had 
a killcrop, who sucked the mother and five other women dry, and 
besides devoured very much. This man was advised that he 
should, in his pilgrimage at Halberstad. make a promise of the 
killcrop to the Virgin Marie, and should cause him there to be 
rocked. This advice the man followed, and carried the change¬ 
ling thither iu a basket. But going over a river, being upon the 


244 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


bridge, another devil that was below in the river, called ami 
said, Killer op! Killcrop! Then the child in the basket (which 
never before spake one word,) answered, Ho, ho. The devil 
in the water asked further, Whither art thou going? The child 
in the basket said, 1 am going towards HockJestad to our loving 
mother, to be rocked. The man being much affrighted thereat, 
threw the child with the basket, over the bridge into the water. 
Whereupon the two devils flew away together, and cried Ho, ho, 
ha, tumbling themselves over one another, and so vanished.” 
(pp. 386, 387.) 

With respect to Luther’s Theological Disputes with the De¬ 
vil, see the passages quoted by Bayle, Art. Luther , Note U. 

Facts of this sort, so recent in their date, and connected with 
the history of so great a character, are consolatory to those, who, 
amid the follies and extravagancies of their contemporaries, are 
sometimes tempted to despair of the cause of truth, and of the 
gradual progress of human reason. 


Note F, p. 94. 

Ben .Tonson is one of the few contemporary writers by whom 
the transcendent genius of Bacon appears to have been justly 
appreciated; and the only one I know of, who has transmit¬ 
ted any idea of his forensick eloquence; a subject on which, 
from his own professional pursuits, combined with the reflecting 
and philosophical cast of his mind, Jonson was peculiarly quali¬ 
fied to form a competent judgment. “ There happened,” says 
he “ in my time, one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in 
his speaking. No man ever spoke more neatly, more pressly, 
more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness in what 
he uttered. No member of his speech but consisted of its own 
graces. His hearers could not cough, or look aside from him 
without loss. He commanded where he spoke, and had his 
judges angry and pleased at his devotion. The fear of every 
man that heard him was, that he should make an end.” No 
finer description of the perfection of this art is to be found in 
any author, ancient or modern. 

The admiration of Jonson for Bacon (whom he appears to 
have known intimately) 1 seem3 almost to have blinded him to 
those indelible shades in his fame, to which, even at this dis¬ 
tance of time, it is impossible to turn the eye without feelings of 

» Jonson is said to have translated into Latin great part of the books 
De Augmentis Scientiarum. Dr. Warton states this (I do not know 
on what authority) as an undoubted fact. Essay on the Genius and 
Writings of Pope . 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


245 


sorrow and humiliation. Yet it is but candid to conclude, from 
the posthumous praise lavished on him by Jonsou and by Sir 
ICenelm Digby, 1 that the servility of the courtier, and the lax¬ 
ity of the judge, were, in the relations of private life, redeemed 
by many estimable and amiable qualities. That mau must 
surely have been marked by some rare features of moral as weH 
as of intellectual greatness, of whom, long after his death, Jon- 
son could write in the following words. 

“ My conceit of his person was never increased toward him 
by his place or honours; but 1 have and do reverence him, for 
the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed 
to me ever, by his works, one of the greatest men, and most 
worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his ad¬ 
versity, I ever prayed that Cod would give him strength, for 
greatness he could not want. Neither could I condole in a 
word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm 
to virtue, but rather help to make it manifest.” 

In Aubrey's anecdotes of Bacon, 3 there are several particu¬ 
lars not unworthy of the attention of his future biographers. 
One expression of this writer is more peculiarly striking: “In 
short, all that were great and good loved and honoured him.” 
When it is considered, that Aubrey’s knowledge of Bacon was 
derived chiefly through the medium of Hobbes, who had lived 
in habits of the most intimate friendship with both, and whose 
writings shew that he was far from being an idolatrous admirer 
of Bacon’s philosophy, it seems impossible for a candid mind, 
after reading the foregoing short but comprehensive eulogy, not 
to feel a strong inclination to dwell rather on the fair than on 
the dark side of the Chancellor’s character, and, before pronounc¬ 
ing an unqualified condemnation, carefully to separate the faults 
of the age from those of the individual. 

An affecting allusion of his own, in one of his greatest works, 
to the errours and misfortunes of his publick life, if it does not 
atone for his faults, may, at least, have some effect in softening 
the asperity of our censures. “ Ad literas potius quam ad aliud 
quicquam natus, et ad res gerendas nescio quo fato contra geniutn 
suum abreptus.” De Aug . Sc. L. viii, c. iii. 

Even in Bacon’s professional line, it is now admitted, by the 
best judges, that he was greatly underrated by his contempora¬ 
ries. “The Queen did acknowledge,” says the Earl of Essex, 
in a letter to Bacon himself, “you had a great wit, and an ex- 

1 See his letters to M. de Fermat, printed at the end of Fermat’s 
Opera Mathematical Tolosae, 1679. 

2 Lately published in the extracts from the Bodleian library. 

32 


246 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


cellent 2 : 1 ft of speech, and much other good learning. Butin law* 
she rather thought you could make shew, to the utmost of your 
knowledge, than that you were deep.” 

“If it be asked,” says Dr. Hurd, “how the Queen came t« 
form this conclusion, the answer is plain. It was from Mr. Ba¬ 
con’s having a great wit, an excellent gift of speech, and much 
other good learning.” Hurd’s Dialogues. 

The following testimony to Bacon’s legal knowledge (pointed 
out to me hy a learned friend) is of somewhat more weight than 
Queen Elizabeth’s judgment against it: “What might we not 
have expected,” says Mr. Hargrave, after a high encomium on 
the powers displayed by Bacon in his ‘ Reading on the Statute 
on Uses? “ what might we not have expected from the hands 
of such a master, if his vast mind had not so embraced within its 
compass the whole field of science, as very much to detach him 
from professional studies!” 

It was probably owing in part to his court disgrace, that so 
little notice was taken of Bacon, for some time after his death, 
by those English writers who availed themselves, without any 
scruple, of the lights struck out in his works. A very remarkable 
example of this occurs in a curious, though now almost forgot¬ 
ten book (published in 1627,) entitled* An Apology or Declara¬ 
tion of the Power and Providence of Godin the Government of the 
World, by George Hakewill, D. D. Archdeacon of Surrey. It 
is plainly the production of an uncommonly liberal and enlight¬ 
ened mind ; well stored with various and choice learning, col¬ 
lected both from ancient and modern authors. Its general aim 
may be guessed at from the text of Scripture prefixed to it as a 
motto, “ Say not thou, what is the cause that the former days 
are better than these, for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning 
this;” and from the words of Ovid, so happily applied by Hake 
will to the “ common errour touching the golden age,” 

Priseajuvent alios, ego me nunc denique natuin 
Gratulor. 

That the general design of the book, as well as many inci 
dental observations contained in it, was borrowed from Bacon, 
there cannot, l apprehend, be a doubt; and yet I do not recol 
lect more than one or two references (and these very slight ones? 
to his writings, through the whole volume. One would natu¬ 
rally have expected, that, in the following passage of the epistle 
dedicatory, the name of the late unfortunate Chancellor of En¬ 
gland, who had died in the course of the preceding year, might 
have found a place along with the other great clerks there enu¬ 
merated : “ I do not believe that all regions of the world, or all 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


247 


ages in the same region, afford wils always alike; but this I 
think (neither is it my opinion alone, but of Scaliger, l ives, 
Budaeus, Bodin, and other great clerks ,) that the wits of these 
latter ages, being manured by industry, directed by precepts, and 
regulated by method, may be as capable of deep speculation?-, 
and produce as masculine and lasting births, as any of the an- 
cienter times have done. But if we conceive them to be gi¬ 
ants, and ourselves dwarfs; if we imagine ail sciences already 
to have received their utmost perfection, so as we need not but 
translate and comment on what they have done, surely there i3 
little hope that we should ever come near them, much less match 
them. The first step to enable a man to the achieving of great 
designs, is to be persuaded that he is able to achieve them; the 
next, not to be persuaded, that whatsoever hath not yet been done, 
cannot therefore be done. Not any one man, or nation, or age, 
but rather mankind is it, which, in latitude of capacity, answers 
to the universality of things to be known.” In another pas¬ 
sage, Hakewill observes, that, “ if we will speak properly and 
punctually, antiquity rather consists in the old age, than in the 
infancy or youth of the world.” I need scarcely add, that some 
of the foregoing sentences are almost literal transcripts of Ba¬ 
con’s words. 

The philosophical fame of Bacon in his own country may be 
dated from the establishment of the Royal Society of London; 
by the founders of which, as appears from their colleague, Dr. 
Sprat, he was held in so high estimation, that it was once propos¬ 
ed to prefix to the history of their labours some of Bacon’s w rit¬ 
ings, as the best comment on the views with which they were un¬ 
dertaken. Sprat himself, and his illustrious friend Cowley, were 
among the number of Bacon’s earliest eulogists; the latter, in 
an Ode to the Royal Society, too well known to require any no¬ 
tice here; the former, in a very splendid passage of his History, 
from which I shall borrow a few sentences, as a conclusion and 
ornament to this note. 

“ For, is it not wonderful, that he who had run through all 
the degrees of that profession, which usually takes up men’s 
whole time; who had studied, and practised, and governed the 
common law; who had always lived in the crowd, and born 
the greatest burden of civil business; should yet find leisure 
enough for these retired studies, to excel all those men, who sepa¬ 
rate themselves for this very purpose ? He was a man of strong, 
clear, and powerful imaginations; his genius was searching and 
inimitable; and of this I need give no other proof than hie 
style itself; which as, for the most part, it describes men’s minds, 
as well as pictures do their bodies, so it did his above all men 
living. The course of it vigorous and majestical; the wit bold 



248 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

and familiar; the comparisons felched out of the way, and yet 
the more easy : 1 In all expressing a soul equally skilled in men 
and nature.” 


Note G, p. 99. 

The paradoxical bias of Hobbes’s understanding is never so 
conspicuous as when he engages in physical or in mathematical 
discussions. On such occasions, he expresses himself with even 
more than his usual confidence and arrogance. Of the Royal 
Society (the Virtuosi , as he calls them, that meet at Gresham Col¬ 
lege ) he writes thus: “ Conveniant, studia conferant, experiment 
ta faciant quantum volunt, nisi et principiis utantur meis, nihil 
proficient.” And elsewhere : “ Ad causas autem propter quas 
proficere ne pauHum quidem potuistis nec poteritis, accedunt 
etiam alia, ut odium Hobbii, quia nimium lihere scripserat de 
academiis veritatem : Nam ex eo tempore irati physici et mathe- 
matici veritatem ab eo venientem non recepturos se palarn pro¬ 
fess: sunt.” In his English publications, he indulges in a vein 
of coarse scurriiily, of which his own words alone can convey 
any idea. “ So go your ways,” says he, addressing himself to 
Dr. Wallis and Dr. Seth Ward, two of the most eminent mathe¬ 
maticians then in England, “you uncivil fecclesiasticks, inhu¬ 
man divines, de-doctorsof morality, unasinouscolleagues,egregious 
pair of Issachars , most wretched indices andvindices academiarum ; 
and remember V espasian’s law, that it is unlawful to give ill lan¬ 
guage first, but civil and lawful to return it.” 


Note H, p. 102. 

With respect to the Leviathan , a very curious anecdole is men¬ 
tioned by Lord Clarendon. “ When 1 returned,” says he, “from 
Spain, by Paris, Mr. Hobbes frequently came to me, and told me 
that his book, which he would call Leviathan , was then printing 
in England, and that he received every week a sheet to 
correct; and thought it would be finished within a little more 
than a month. He adder!, that he knew when I read the hook I 
would not like it; and thereupon mentioned some conclusions; 
upon which 1 asked him why he would publish such doctrines; 
to which, after a discourse between jest and earnest, he said, 

i By the word easy. I presume Sprat here means the native and 
spontaneous growth of Bacon's own fancy, in opposition to the tra¬ 
ditionary similies borrowed by common place writers from their pre¬ 
decessors. 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


249 


4< The truth is , f have a mind to go home." In another passage, 
the same writer expresses himself thus: “ The review and con¬ 
clusion of the Leviathan is, in truth, a sly address to Cromwell, 
that, being out of the kingdom, and so being neither conquer¬ 
ed nor his subject, he might by his return submit to his govern¬ 
ment, and be bound to obey it. This review and conclusion he 
made short enough to hope that Cromwell might read it; where 
he should not only receive the pawn of this new subject’s alle¬ 
giance, by declaring his own obligations and obedience; but by 
publishing such doctrines, as, being diligently infused by such a 
master in the art of government, might secure the people of the 
kingdom (over whom he had no right to command) to acquiesce 
and submit to his brutal power.” 

That there is no exaggeration or misrepresentation of facts in 
these passages, with the view of injuring the character of Hob¬ 
bes, may be confidently presumed from the very honourable 
testimony which Clarendon bears, in another part of the same 
work, to his moral as well as intellectual merits. “ Mr. Hob¬ 
bes,” he observes, “is a man of excellent parts; of great wit; 
of some reading; and of somewhat more thinking; one who 
has spent many years in foreign parts and observations; under¬ 
stands the learned as well as modern languages; hath long 
had the reputation of a great philosopher and mathematician; 
and in his age hath had conversation with many worthy and ex¬ 
traordinary men. In a word, he is one of the most ancient ac¬ 
quaintance I have in the world, and of whom I have always 
had a great esteem, as a man, who, besides his eminent learning 
and knowledge, hath been always looked upon as a man of probi¬ 
ty, and of a life free from scandal.” 


Note I, p. 141. 

It is not easy to conceive how Descartes reconciled, to his 
own satisfaction, his frequent use of the word substance , as ap¬ 
plied to the mind, with his favourite doctrine, that the essence of 
the mind consists in thought. Nothing can be well imagined 
more unphilosophical than this last doctrine, in whatever terms 
it is expressed; but to designate by the name of substance , what 
is also called thought , in the course of the same argument, ren¬ 
ders the absurdity still more glaring than it would otherwise 
have been. 

I have alluded, in the text, to the difference between the popu¬ 
lar and the scholastick notion of substance. According to 
the latter, the word substance corresponds to the Greek word twice, 
as employed by Aristotle to denote the first of the predicaments; 


250 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


in which technical sense it is said, in the language of the schools, 
to signify that which supports attributes, or which is subject to at- 
cidmts. At a period when every person liberally educated was 
accustomed to this barbarous jargon, it might not appear alto¬ 
gether absurd to apply the term substance to the human soul, or 
even to the Deity. But, in the present times, a writer who 
should so employ it may be assured, that, to a great majority of 
his readers, it will be no less puzzling than it was to Crambe, in 
Martinus Scriblerus, when he first heard it thus defined by his 
master Cornelius. 1 How extraordinary does the following sen¬ 
tence now sound even to a philosophical ear! and yet it is 
copied from a work published little more than seventy years 
ago, by the learned and judicious Gravesande: “ Substantiae 
sunt aut cogitantes, aut non eogitanles; cogitantes duas novitnus, 
Deum et menlem nostrum. Duae etiam substantiae, quae non 
cogitant, nobis notae sunt, spatium et corpus.” Introd. ad Phil . 

19 . 

The Greek word 6v<uet (derived from the participle of tifct) is 
not liable to these objections. It obtrudes no sensible image on 
the fancy ; and in this respect, has a great advantage over the 
Latin word substantia. The former, in its logical acceptation, 
is an extension to Matter, of an idea originally derived from 
Mind. The latter is an extension to Mind of an idea originally 
derived from Matter. 

Instead of defining mind to be a thinking substance , it seems 
much more logically correct to define it a thinking being. Per¬ 
haps it would be better still, to avoid, by the use of the pronoun 
that , any substantive whatever, “ Mind is that which thinks, 
wills,” &c. 

The foregoing remarks afford me an opportunity of exempli¬ 
fying what I have elsewhere observed concerning the effects 
which the scholastick philosophy has left on the present habits of 
thinking, even of those who never cultivated that branch of 
learning. In consequence of the stress laid on th e predicaments, 
men became accustomed in (heir youth to imagine, that, in order 
to know the nature of any thing, it was sufficient to know under 
wha {predicament or category it ought to he arranged; and that, 
4ill this was done, it remained to our faculties a subject merely 

1 “ When he was told, a substance was that which was subject to ac - 
cidcnts , then soldiers, quoth Crambe, are the most substantial people 
in the world.” Let me add, that, in the list of Philosophical reform¬ 
ers, the authors of Martinus Scriblerus ought not to be overlooked. 
Their happy ridicule of the scholastick Logick and Metaphysicks 
is universally known ; but few are aware of the acuteness and sa¬ 
gacity displayed in their allusions to some of the most vulnerable pas¬ 
sages in Locke’s Essay. In this part of the work it is commonly un¬ 
derstood that Arbuthuot had the principal share. 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 


251 


of ignorant wonder. Hence the impotent attempt to compre¬ 
hend under some common name (such as that of substance ) the 
heterogeneous existences of matter , of mind , and even of empty 
space ; and hence the endless disputes to which the last of these 
words has given rise in the Schools. 

In our own times, Kant and his followers seem to have thought, 
that they had thrown a new and strong light on the nature of 
space, and also of time, when they introduced the word forms 
(forms of the intellect) as a common term applicable to both. Is 
not this to revert to the scholastick folly of verbal generaliza¬ 
tion ? And is it not evident, that of things which are unique 
(such as matter, mind, space, time) no classification is practicable ? 
Indeed, to speak of classifying what has nothing in common 
with any thing else, is a contradiction in terms. It was thus 
that St. Augustine felt, when he said, “ Quid sit tempos, si nemo 
quaerat a me, scio; si quis interroget, nescio.” His idea evi¬ 
dently was, that, although he annexed as clear and precise a 
notion to the word time, as he could do to any object of human 
thought, he was unable to find any term more general, under 
which it could be comprehended; and consequently, unable to 
give any definition, by which it might be explained. 


Note K, p. 142. 


u Les Meditations de Descartes parurent in 1841. C’etoit, de. 
tous ses ouvrages, celui qu’il estimoit le plus. Ce qui characte¬ 
rise sur tout cet ouvrage, e’est qu’il contient sa fameuse demon 
3 tration de Dieu par Fidee, demonstration si repetee depuis. 
adoptee par les uns, et rejettee par les autre?; et qiiil est le pre¬ 
mier oil la distinction de Vcsprit et de la motiere soil parfaitemenf 
developpee, car avant Descartes on n’avoit encore bien appre- 
fondi les preuves philosophiques de Ja spirituaiite de Fame.” Elo 
ge de Descartes , par M. Thomas. Note 20. 

If the remarks in the text be correct, the characteristical me¬ 
rits of Descartes’ Meditations do not consist in the novelty of the 
proofs contained in them of the spirituality of the soul (on which 
point Descartes has added little or nothing to what had been ad¬ 
vanced by his predecessors,) but in the clear and decisive argu 
merits by which they expose the absurdity of attempting to ex¬ 
plain the mental phenomena, by analogies borrowed from those 
of matter. Of this distinction, neither Thomas, nor Turgot, no? 
D’Alembert, nor Condorcet, seem to have been at all aware. 

I quote from the last of these writers an additional proof of the 
confusion of ideas upon this point, still prevalent among the mos! 
acute logicians. “ Ainsi la spirituaiite de Fame , n’est pas uue 


252 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


opinion qui ait besoin de preuves, mais le resultat simple et na- 
turel d’une analyse exacte de nos idees, et de nos facultes.” {Vie 
dc M. Turgot.) Substitute for spirituality the word immateriality , 
and the observation becomes equally just and important. 


Note L, p. 143. 

The following extract from Descartes might be easily mistaken 
for a passage in the Novum Organon. 

“ Quoniam infantes nati sumus, et varia de rebus sensibilibus 
judicia prius tuliinus, quam integrum nostrae rationis usum ha- 
beremus, multis praejudiciis a veri cognitione avertimur, quibus 
non aliter videmur posse liberari, quam si semel in vita, de iis 
omnibus studeamus dubitare, in quibus vel minimum incertitu- 
dinis suspicionem reperiemus. 

“ Quin et ilia etiam, de quibus dubitabimus, utile erit habere 
pro falsis, ut tanto clarius, quidnam certissimum et cognitu fa- 
cillimum sit, inveniamus. 

“ I tuque ad serio philosophandum, veritatemque omnium rerum 
cognoscibilium indagandam, primo omnia praejudicia sunt de- 
ponenda; sive accurate est cavendum, ne ullis ex opinionibus 
olim a nobis receptis fidem habeamus, nisi prius, iis ad novum 
examen revocatis, veras esse comperiamus.” Princ. Phil. Pars 
Prima , §§ lii. Ixxv. 

Notwithstanding these and various other similar coincidences, 
it has been asserted, with some confidence, that Descartes had 
never read the works of Bacon. “ Quelques auteurs assurent 
que Descartes n’avoit point lu les ouvrages de Bacon; et il nous 
dit lui-m^me dans une de ses lettres, qu’il ne lut que fort tard les 
principaux ouvrage de Galilee.” ( Elogc de Descartes, par Tho¬ 
mas.) Of the veracity of Descartes, I have not the slightest 
doubt; and therefore I consider this last fact (however extraor¬ 
dinary) as completely established by his own testimony. But 
it would require more evidence than the assertions of those 
nameless writers alluded to by 'Thomas, to convince me that he 
had never looked into an aut hor, so highly extolled as Bacon is, 
in the letters addressed to himself by his illustrious antagonist, 
Gassendi. At any rate, if this was actually the case, 1 cannot 
subscribe to the reflection subjoined to the foregoing quotation 
by his eloquent eulogist. “ Si cela est, i! faut convenir, que la 
gloire de Descartes en est bien plus grande.” 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


253 


Note M, p. 159. 

From (lie indissoluble union between the notions of colour 
and of extension, Dr. Berkeley has drawn a curious, and, in my 
opinion, most illogical argument in favour of his scheme of ideal¬ 
ism ;—which, as it may throw some additional light on the phe¬ 
nomena in question, I shall transcribe in his own words. 

Perhaps, upon a strict inquiry, we shall not find, that even 
those who, from their birth, have grown up in a continued habit of 
seeing, are still irrevocably prejudiced on the other side, to wit, in 
thinking what they see to be at a distance from them. For, 
at this time, it seems agreed on all hands, that colours , which 
are the proper and immediate objects of sight, are not without 
the mind. But then, it will be said, by sight we have also the 
ideas of extension, and figure, and motion; all which may well be 
thought without , and at some distance from the mind, though co¬ 
lour should not. In answer to this, I appeal to any man’s expe¬ 
rience, whether the visible extension of any object doth not ap¬ 
pear as near to him as the colour of that object; nay, whether 
they do not both seem to be in the same place. Is not the ex¬ 
tension we see coloured; and is it possible for us, so much as in 
thought, to separate and abstract colour from extension? Now, 
where the extension is, there surely is the figure, and there the 
motion too. I speak of those which are perceived by sight.” 1 

Among the multitude of arguments advanced by Berkeley, in 
support of his favourite theory, I do not recollect any that strikes 
me more with the appearance of a wilful sophism than the forego¬ 
ing. It is difficult to conceive how so very acute a reasoner 
should not have perceived that his premises, in this instance, 
lead to a conclusion directly opposite to what he has drawn from 
them. Supposing all mankind to have an irresistible conviction 
of the outness and distance of extension and figure, it is very 
easy to explain, from the association of ideas, and from our early 
habits of inattention to the phenomena of consciousness, how 
the sensations of colour should appear to the imagination to be 
transported out of the mind. But if, according to Berkeley’s 
doctrines, the constitution of human nature leads men to be¬ 
lieve that extension and figure, and every other quality of 
the material universe, exists only within themselves, whence 
the ideas of external and of internal; of remote , or of near? 
When Berkeley says, “ I appeal to any man’s experience, 
whether the visible extension of any object doth not appear 
as near to him as the colour of that object.;” how much more 
reasonable would it have been to have stated the indisputable 
fact, that the colour of the object appears as remote as its ex- 

i Essay toward a New Theory of Vision, p. 255. 

S3 


2j4 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


tension and figure ? Nothing, in my opinion, can afford a more 
conclusive proof, that the natural judgment of the mind is 
against the inference just quoted from Berkley, than the problem 
of D’Alembert, which has given occasion to this discussion. 


Note N, p. 166. 

It is observed by Dr. Reid, that “ the system which is now 7 
generally received with regard to the mind and its operations, 
derives not only its spirit from Descartes, but its fundamental 
principles; and that, after all the improvements made by Male- 
hranche, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, it f may still be called the 
Cartesian system” Conclusion of the Inquiry into the Human 
Mind. 

The part of the Cartesian system here alluded to, is the hypo¬ 
thesis, that the communication between the mind and external 
objects is carried on by means of ideas or images ; — not, indeed, 
transmitted from without (as the Aristotelians supposed) through 
the channel of the senses, but nevertheless bearing a relation to 
the qualities perceived, analogous to that of an impression on 
wax to the seal by which it was stamped. In this last assump¬ 
tion, Aristotle and Descartes agreed perfectly; and the chief 
difference between them was, that Descartes palliated, or rather 
kept out of view, the more obvious absurdities of the old theory, 
by rejecting the unintelligible supposition of intentional species , 
and by substituting, instead of the word image , the more indefi¬ 
nite and ambiguous word idea. 

But there was another and very important step made by Des¬ 
cartes, in restricting the ideal Theory to the primary qualities of 
matter; its secondary qualities (of colour, sound, smell, taste, 
heat, and cold) having, according to him, no more resemblance 
to the sensations by means of which they are perceived, than 
arbitrary sounds have to the things they denote, or the edge of 
a sword to the pain it may occasion. ( Princ . Pars iv, §§ 197. 
198.) To this doctrine he frequently recurs in other parts of 
his works. 

In these modifications of the Aristotelian Theory of Percep¬ 
tion, Locke acquiesced entirely ; explicitly asserting, that “ the 
ideas of primary qualities are resemblances of them, but that the 
ideas of secondary qualities have no resemblance to them at all.” 
Essay, B. ii, c. viii, § 15. 

When pressed by Gassendi to explain how images of exten- 
sion aud figure can exist in an unextended mind, Descartes ex¬ 
presses himself thus : “ Quaeris, quomodo existimem in me sub- 
jecto inextenso recipi posse speciem ideamve corporis quod 
extensum est ? Respondeo, nullam speciem corpoream in meute 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


255 


recipi, sed puram intellectionem tarn rei corporeae quam in- 
corporeae fieri absque ulla specie corporeae ; ad imaginationem 
vero, quae non nisi de rebus corporeis esse potest, opus quidem 
esse specie quae sit verum corpus, et ad quam mens se applied , 
sed non quae in mente recipiatur.” Responsio de iis quae in 
sextain Meditationem objecta sunt, § 4. 

In this reply it is manifestly assumed as an indisputable prin¬ 
ciple, that the immediate objects of our thoughts, when we ima¬ 
gine or conceive the primary qualities of extension and figure, 
are ideas or species of these qualities; and, of consequence, are 
themselves extended and figured. Had it only occurred to him 
to apply ( mutalis mutandis) to the perception of primary quali¬ 
ties his own account of the perception of secondary qualities 
(that it is obtaiued, to wit, by the media of sensations more ana¬ 
logous to arbitrary signs, than to stamps or pictures,) he might 
have eluded the difficulty started by Gassendi, without being 
reduced to the disagreeable necessity of supposing his ideas or 
images to exist in the brain, and not in the mind. The lan¬ 
guage of Mr. Locke, it is observable, sometimes implies the one 
of these hypotheses, and sometimes the other. 

It was plainly with the view 7 of escaping from the dilemma 
proposed by Gassendi to Descartes, that Newton and Clarke 
were led to adopt a mode of speaking concerning perception, 
approaching very nearly to the language of Descartes. “ Is 
not,” says Newton,“ the sensorium of animals the place where 
the sentient substance is present ; and to which the sensible 
species of things are brought, through the nerves and brain, that 
there they may be perceived by the mind present in that place?” 
And still more confidently Dr. Clarke : “Without being present 
to the images of the things perceived, the soul could not possi¬ 
bly perceive them. A living substance can only there perceive 
where it is present. Nothing can any more act or be acted 
upon where it is not present, than it can when it is not.” The 
distinction between primary and secondary qualities was after¬ 
wards rejected by Berkeley, in the course of his argument 
against the existence of matter; but he continued to retain the 
language of Descartes concerning ideas, and to consider them as 
the immediate, or rather as the only objects of our thoughts, 
wherever the external senses are concerned. Mr. Hume’s 
notions and expressions on the subject are very nearly the 
same. 

I thought it necessary to enter into these details, in order to 
shew with what limitations the remark quoted from Dr. Reid in 
the beginning of this note ought to be received. It is certainly 
true, that the Cartesian system may be said to form the ground¬ 
work of Locke’s Theory of Perception, as well as of the skepti- 


256 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.** 

cal conclusions deduced from it by Berkeley and Hume; but it 
is not the less true, that it forms also the groundwork of all that 
has since been done towards the substitution, in place of this 
skepticism, of a more solid fabriek of metaphysical science. 


Note O, p. 167. 

After the pains taken by Descartes to ascertain the scat of 
the soul, it is surprising to find one of the most learned English 
divines of the seventeenth century (Dr. Henry More) accusing 
him as. an abettor of the dangerous heresy of nullibism. Of this 
heresy Dr. More represents Descartes as the chief author; and, 
at the same time, speaks of it as so completely extravagant, that 
he is at a loss whether to treat it as the serious opinion of a 
philosopher, or as the jest of a buffoon. “ The chief author and 
leader of the Nullibisls,” he tells us, “ seems to have been that 
pleasant wit , Renatas Descartes, who, by his jocular metaphysical 
meditations, has luxated and distorted the rational faculties of 
some otherwise sober and quick-witted persons.” To those who 
are at all acquainted with the philosophy of Descartes, it is un¬ 
necessary to observe, that, so far from being a Nullibist, he 
valued himself not a little on having fixed the precise ubi of the 
soul, with a degree of accuracy unthought of by any of his pre¬ 
decessors. As he held, however, that the soul was unextended, 
and as More happened to conceive that nothing which was un¬ 
extended could have any reference to place, he seems to have 
thought himself entitled to impute to Descartes, in direct oppo¬ 
sition to his own words, the latter of these opinions as well as 
the former. “ The true notion of a spirit,” according to More, 
“ is that of an extended penetrable substance, logically and 
intellectually divisible, but not physically discernible into parts.” 

Whoever has the curiosity to look into the w'orks of this once 
admired, and, in truth, very able logician, will easily discover, 
that his alarm at the philosophy of Descartes was really occa¬ 
sioned, not by the scheme of nullibism , but by the Cartesian 
doctrine of the non-extension of mind, which More thought in¬ 
consistent with a fundamental article in his own creed—the ex¬ 
istence of witches and apparitions. To hint at any doubt about 
either, or even to hold any opinion that seemed to weaken their 
credibility, appeared to this excellent person quite a sufficient 
proof of complete atheism. 

The observations of More on “the true notion of a spirit” 
(extracted from his Enchiridion Ethicum) were afterwards n <ub- 
lished in Glanville’s hook upon witchcraft;—a work (as I before 
mentioned) proceeding from the same pen with the Scepsis Scien* 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


257 


tifica , one of the most acute and original productions of which 
English philosophy had then to boast. 

If some of the foregoing particulars should, at first sight, ap¬ 
pear unworthy of attention in a historical sketch of the progress 
of science, l must beg leave to remind my readers, that they be¬ 
long to a history of still higher importance and dignity—that of 
the progress of Reason, and of the Human Mind. 


Note P, p. 170. 

For an interesting sketch of the chief events in the life of 
Descartes, see the Notes annexed to his Eloge by Thomas; 
where also is to be found a very pleasing and lively portrait of 
his moral qualities. As for the distinguishing merits of the 
Cartesian philosophy, and more particularly of the Cartesian 
metaphysicks, it was a subject peculiarly ill adapted to the pen 
of this amiable and eloquent, but verbose and declamatory aca¬ 
demician. 

I am doubtful, too, if Thomas has not gone too far, in the 
following passage, on a subject of which he was much more 
competent to judge than of some others which he has ventured 
to discuss: “ L’imagination brillante de Descartes se decele 
partoutdans ses ouvrages; et s’il n’avoit voulu etre ni geometre 
ni philosophe, il n’auroit tenu qu’a lui d’etre le plus bel esprit de 
son temps.” Whatever opinion may be formed on this last as¬ 
sertion, it will not be disputed by those who have studied Des¬ 
cartes, that his philosophical style is remarkably dry, concise, and 
severe. Its great merit lies in its singular precision and per¬ 
spicuity ;—a perspicuity, however, which does not dispense with 
a moment’s relaxation in the reader’s attention ; the author sel¬ 
dom repeating his remarks, and hardly ever attempting to illus¬ 
trate or to enforce them either by reasoning or by examples. 
In all these respects, his style forms a complete contrast to that 
of Bacon’s. 

In Descartes’ epistolary compositions, indeed, ample evidences 
are to be found of his vivacity and fancy, as well as of his clas¬ 
sical taste. One of the most remarkable is a letter addressed to 
Balzac, in which he gives his reasons for preferring Holland to 
all other countries, not only as a tranquil, but as an agreeable 
residence fora philosopher; and enters into some very engaging 
details concerning his own petty habits. The praise bestowed 
on this letter by Thomas is by no means extravagant, when he 
compares it to the best of Balzac’s. “ Je ne scais s’il y arien 
dans tout Balzac on il y ait autant d’esprit et d’agrement.” 


258 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Note, p. 177. 1 

It is an errour common to by far the greater number of mo¬ 
dern metaphysicians, to suppose that there is no medium between 
the innate ideas of Descartes, and the opposite theory of Gassen¬ 
di. In a very ingenious and learned essay on Philosophical 
Prejudices, by M. Trembley, 2 1 find the following sentence: 
“ Mais i’experience dement ce systeme des idees innees puisque 
la privation d’un sens emporle avec elle la privation des idees 
attachees a ce sens, comme Pa remarque Pillustre auteur de 
VEssai Anatytique sur les Faculles de VAmc .” 

What are we to understand by the remark here ascribed to 
]\Ir. Bonnet ? Does it mean nothing more than this, that to a 
person born blind, no instruction can convey an idea of colours, 
nor to a person born deaf, of sounds? A remark of this sort sure¬ 
ly did not need to be sanctioned by the united names of Bonnet 
and of Trembley : Nor, indeed, does it bear in the slightest de¬ 
gree on the point in dispute. The question is not about our 
ideas of the material world, but about those ideas on metaphysi¬ 
cal and moral subjects, which may be equally imparted to the 
blind and to the deaf; enabling them to arrive at the knowledge 
of the same truths, and exciting in their minds the same moral 
emotions. The sigtis employed in the reasonings of these two 
classes of persons will of course excite by association, in their 
respective fancies, very ditferent material images; but whence 
the origin of the physical and moral notions of which these signs 
are the vehicle, and for suggesting which, all sets of signs seem 
to he equally fitted ? The astonishing scientifick attainments of 
many persons, blind from their birth, and the progress lately 
made in the instruction of the deaf, furnish palpable and incon- 
testible proofs of the flimsiuess of this article of the Epicurean 
philosophy;—so completely verified is now the original and 
profound conclusion long ago formed by Dalgarno, “ That the 
soul can exert her powers by the ministry of any of the senses : 
and, therefore, when she is deprived of her principal secretaries, 
the eve and the ear, then she must be contented with the ser¬ 
vice of her lackeys and scullions, the other senses; which are 
no less true and faithful to their mistress than the eye and the 
ear; hut not so quick for despatch.” Didascalocophus , &c. Ox¬ 
ford, 1680. 

I was once in hopes of being able to throw a still stronger 
light on the subject of this note, by attempting to ascertain ex- 

1 The reference to this Note was accidentally omitted in the pro¬ 
per place. It ought to have been in page 177, line 3, at the end of 
the first paragraph. 

2 Essai sur les Prejuges, &c. Neucliatel, 1790. 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


259 


perimentally the possibility of awakening and cultivating the 
dormant powers of a boy destitute of the organs both of sight and 
of hearing; but unexpected occurrences have disappointed my 
expectations. 

I have just learned, that a case somewhat similar, though not 
quite so favourable in all its circumstances, has recently occur¬ 
red in the state of Connecticut in New England; and I have 
the satisfaction to add, there is some- probability that so rare an 
opportunity for philosophical observations and experiments will 
not be overlooked in that quarter of the world. 


Note Q, p. 179. 

Of Gassendi’s orthodoxy as a Roman Catholick divine, he has 
left a very curious memorial, in an inaugural discourse pronounc¬ 
ed in 1645, before Cardinal Richelieu, when he entered on the 
duties of his office as Regius Professor of Mathematicks at 
Paris. The great object of the oration is to apologize to his 
auditors for his having abandoned his ecclesiastical functions, to 
teach and cultivate 1 the profane science of geometry. With 
this view, he proposes to explain and illustrate the saying of 
Plato, who, being questioned about the employment of the Su¬ 
preme Being, answered, Fe&fiiTfuv rov 6icv, In the prosecution of 
this argument, he expresses himself thus on the doctrine of the 
Trinity. 

“ Anne proinde hoc adorandum Trinitatis mysterium habebi- 
mus rursus ut sphaeram, cujus quasi centrum sit Pater Aeternus, 
qui totius divinitatis fons, origo, principium accommodate dicitur; 
oircumferentia Filius, in quo legitur habitare plenitudo Divini¬ 
tatis ; et radii centro circumferentiaeque intercedentes Spiritus 
Sanctus, qui est Patris et Filii nexus, vinculumque mutuum ? 
Anne potius dicendum est emiuere in hoc mysterio quicquid 
sublime magnificumque humana geomeiria etiamnum requirit ? 
Percelebre est latere earn adhuc, quam quadraturam circuli 
vocanl; atque idcirco in eo esse, ut describat triangulum, cujus 
si basin ostenderit circuli ambitui aequalem, turn demum esse 
circulo triangulum aequale demonstrat. At in hoc mysterio 
augustissimo gloriosissima Personarum Trias ita infinitae essen- 
tiae, ipsiusque foecunditati, tanquam circulo exaequatur, seu, ut 
sic loquar, et veriOs quidem, penilus identificatur; ut cum sit 
omnium, et cujusque una, atque eadem essentia, una proinde 
ac eadem sit immensitas, aeternitas, et perfectionum plenitudo. 

“ Sic, cum nondum norit humana geometria trisecare angu- 
lum, dividereve, et, citra accommodationem mechanicam, oslen- 
dere divisum esse in tria aequalia; habemus in hocce mysterio 


260 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


unam essentiam non tam trisectam, quam integram communica- 
tam in tria aequalia supposita, quae cum simul, sigillatimque to- 
tarn individuamque possideant, sint inter se tamen realiter dis- 
fincta.” 

The rest of the oration is composed in exactly the same taste. 

The following interesting particulars of Gassendi’s death are 
recorded by Sorbiere. 

“ Extremam tamen hofam imminentem sentiens, quod reli 
quum erat virium impendendum existimavit praeparando 
mortem animo. Itaque significavit, ut quamprimum vocart 
Sacerdos > in cujus aurem, dum fari poterat, peccata sua efifunde* ^ 

.Dein, ut nihil perfectae Christian! militis arma- 

turae deesset, sacro inuiigi oleo efilagitavit. Ad quam caere- 
nioniam animo attendens, cum sacerdos aures inungens pronun- 
tiaret verba solennia, et lapsu quodam memoriae dixisset. Indul¬ 
ged tibi Dominus quidquid per odoratum peccasti , reposuit statim 
aeger, imo per auditum; adeo intentus erat rei gravissimae, et 
eluendarum sordium vel minimarum cupidum se et sitibundum 
gerebat.” Sorberii Praefatio. 

Having mentioned in the text the avowed partiality of Gas¬ 
sendi for the Epicurean ethicks, it is but justice to his memory 
to add, that his own habits were, in every respect, the reverse 
of those commonly imputed to this school. “ Ad privatam Gas¬ 
sendi vitam saepiu3 attendens,” says Sorbiere, “ anachoretam 
aliquem cernere mihi videor, qui media in urbe vitam instituit 
plane ad monachifseverioris normam; adeo paupertatem, castita- 
tern et obedientiam coluit; quanquam sine ullo voto tria iata 

vota solvisse videatur.-Abstemius erat sponte sua, ptisanam 

tepidam bibens pulmoni refrigerando humectandoque. Carne 
raro, herbis saepius, ac macerata otfa mane et vesperd et uteba- 
tur” Ibid. 


END OF PART FIRST 




'0 




/ cyfo-tr^ /f. 


DISSERTATION THIRD : 


EXHIBITING A GENERAL VIEW OP THE 


progress of Cljemt'cal pinlasapljp. 


FROM THE EARLY AGES TO THE END OF THE 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 


BY WILLIAM THOMAS BRANDE, 

* \V 

Secretary of the Royal Society of London, Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, 
Professor of Chemistry in the Royal Institution of Great Britain, and Pro¬ 
fessor of Chemistry and Materia Medica to the Society of 
Apothecaries of the City of London. 













































t 





































DISSERTATION THIRD. 


SECTION I. 

GENERAL VIEW OF THE PROGRESS OF CHEMICAL SCI" 
ENCE, FROM THE EARLY AGES TO THE END OF THE 
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 


The phenomena of the universe present a series of 
changes, of which the regularity and harmonious succes¬ 
sion excite the surprise of superficial observers, and awaken 
the admiration and attention of the philosophick mind. 

These changes are either accompanied by visible motion 
susceptible of measurement, and relate to the exterior forms 
and mechanical characters of bodies, or they depend upon 
the mutual agencies of the elementary principles of matter, 
upon its composition, upon its susceptibility of acquiring 
new properties by entering into new combinations. 

The investigation of the former phenomena belongs to 
the mechanical philosopher ; to trace the causes of the 
latter, and to discover the laws to which they are obedient, 
is the business of Chemical Science. 1 

1 Definitions of Chemistry .—“ La Chymie est uu art qui en* 
seigne a separer les differentes substances quise rerxcontrent dans 
un mixte.” (L’Emery, Cours de Chymie.) 






4 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[8ECT. I. 


Chemistry, considered as a branch of scientifick inquiry, 
is not of ancient date. 1 Founded upon principles deduced 

“ Chemistry is that science which examines the constituent 
parts of bodies, with reference to their nature, proportions, and 
method of combination.” (Bergman, Essay on the Usefulness 
of Chemistry.) 

“ Chemistry is the study of the effects of heat and mixture, 
with a view of discovering their general and subordinate laws, 
and of improving the useful arts.” (Black. Lectures.) 

“ La Chimie est une science qui apprend a connaitre Taction 
intime et reciproque de tous ies corps de la nature, les uns sur 
les autres. Par les mots action intime , et reciproque , cette sci¬ 
ence est distinguee de la physique experimentale, qui ne consi- 
dere que les proprietes exterieures des corps doues d'un volume, 
et d’une masse quon peut mesurer, tamiis que la Chimie ne 
s’attache qu’aux proprietes interieures, et n’agit que sur des mo¬ 
lecules, dont le volume et la masse neu peuvent pas etre soumis 
aux mesures et aux calculs.” (Fourcroy, Systeme des Connois - 
sance Chimiques , Vol. I. p. 4.) 

“ Die Chemie ist eine Wissenschaft die uns die wechselseitige 
wirkungen der einfachern Stoffe in der Natur, die zusammen- 
setzung der korper aus ihren und nach ihrdn verschiedenen ver- 
haltnisseu, und die Art und Weise kennen lehrt, sie zu trennen, 
oder sie wieder zu neuen Korperarten zu verbinden.” (Gren. 
Systematises handbuch der Chemie , p. 1. Halle, 1794.) 

“ Chemistry is that science which treats of those events or 
changes in natural bodies, which are not accompanied by sen¬ 
sible motions.” Thomson, System of Chemistry , fifth edition, 
p. 2.) 

Most of the substances belonging to our globe are constantly 
undergoing alterations in sensible qualities, and one variety of 
matter becomes, as it were, transmuted into another. Such 
changes, whether natural or artificial, whether slowly or rapidly 
performed, are called chemical;—thus the gradual and almost 
imperceptible decay of the leaves and branches of a fallen tree 
exposed to the atmosphere, and the rapid combustion of wood in 
our fires, are both chemical operations. 

“ The object of chemical philosophy is to ascertain the causes 
of all phenomena of this kind, and to discover the laws by which 
they are governed.” (Davy, Elements of Chemical Philosophy , 
p. i.) 

In the edition of Johnson’s Dictionary , now publishing by the 
Rev. H. J. Todd, the erroneous and antiquated definition of 
Boerhaave is very improperly retained. “ An art whereby 


SECT. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


5 


from experiment and observation, centuries were consumed 
in their accumulation and systematic arrangement ; but, as 

sensible bodies contained in vessels, or capable of being contain¬ 
ed therein, are so changed by means of certain instruments, and 
principally fire, that their several powers and virtues are thereby 
discovered, with a view to philosophy or medicine.” 

The derivation of the word Chemistry can scarcely be said to 
have been ascertained. The most plausible guesses are the fol¬ 
lowing : from yya lo melt, or x v f* 6 ^ juice ; from kema , an oriental 
word signifying black; from the name of a person emi¬ 

nently skilled in the sciences ; from Chemi , the Coptick name of 
Egypt, where the art is supposed to have had its rise. 

According to Bryant ( Ancient Mythol. ), it is derived from chc - 
mi a, and that word from Cham. 

The Rev. Mr. Palmer, Professor of Arabick at Cambridge, has 
given the following etymology : “ Al-chemy, or more properly 
Al-kemy, the knowledge of the substance or composition of 
bodies, so named from the substantive (Kyamon,) that is, the 
substance or constitution of any thing; from the root (Kama.) 
Golius. Lexicon .” (Thomson’s Chemistry , 5th edit. p. 4. Note.) 

Conversing upon this subject with Dr. Thomas Young, he re¬ 
marked, that the Egytians probably neither knew nor cared 
much about the composition of bodies; and the term of Chemis¬ 
try, as referring to the secret art of transmutation, was probably 
derived from the Coptick root hhetns or chcms, signifying obscure , 
dark. The German word geheim , secret , he said, was perhaps of 
the same root. 

“Haec ars varia accepit nomina, riam omnium primo dicta 
fuit vro/tiTixq, et antiquis illis temporibus per hanc significa- 
bant artem vilia metella in aurum convertendi, et ejus artifices 
woiYircti vocari Zozimus dicit. Veteres Aegyptios hanc artem 
Chimoct vocasse Josephus Scaliger ibi ostendit, sed postea Grae- 
ci hanc artem dixerunt, Arabibus vero, Alchcmia .” 

(Boerhaave, ( Institutions Chcmiae.) 

1 “ Tout ce qu’on a dit de Pantique origine de la Chimie, sur 
les premiers hommes qui ont travaille les metaux, taille et poli 
les pierres dures, fondu les sables, dissous et crystallise les sels, 
ne montre a un esprit exact et severe qu’uue vaiue et ridicule 
pretension, semblable a cette par laquelle on voudrait reconnoi¬ 
tre les elemens de la geometrie dans l’ouvrage grossier du sauvage 
qui use les fragmens du rocher, qui leur donne des formes a peu 
pres regulieres pour les rendre utiles a ses premiers besoms.” 
(Fourcrov, Discours Preliminaire.) 



6 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. r. 


an art, chemistry is readily traced to periods of remote an¬ 
tiquity ; for it is obvious that the chemical changes of mat¬ 
ter must have been rendered subservient to the wants of 
mankind in the earliest ages of the world. 

Metallurgy is among the most ancient of the arts, and 
Tubal Cain, the instructor of workers in iron and brass, 
has thence been called the inventor of chemistry. Others 
have preferred the claims of Noah, to whom the invention 
of wine has been attributed ; but these, and other arts allud¬ 
ed to in Sacred Writ, such as dyeing, gilding, and em¬ 
balming, which have been adduced as instances of chemi¬ 
cal knowledge in the time of Moses, prove nothing more 
than that such processes were practised at that period, in¬ 
dependent of each other, and quite unconnected by the 
slightest reference to general principles . 1 

It is probable that the early mythological systems of the 
Egyptians contained some allusions to the chemical chan¬ 
ges of matter, and to them the first speculations on the art 
of transmutation have been attributed. Hermes, or Mercu- 
rius Trismegistus, the favourite minister of the Egyptian 
king Osiris, has been celebrated as the inventor of this art, 
and the first treatise upon it has been attributed to Zosy- 
mus, of Chemnis or Panopolis in Egypt. The inhabitants 
of Sidon and Tyre, those renowned seats of the commerce 
of the ancient world, seem to have been skilled in some 

1 “ Si Ton examine cependant avec courage et sans prejuge 
toutes les preuves qu’on a reunies pour etablir l’existence de la 
Chimie chez les Egyptiens, apres avoir reporte son origine aux 
premiers ages du monde, et aux premiers travaux ou les hommes 
ont employe le feu comme agent, on reconnait bientot que tirees 
uniquement des products employes dans leurs constructions di- 
verses, elles peuvent toutes annoneer des arts ou des procedes de 
falirique plus on moins avances mais rien qui tienne a des no¬ 
tions generates tirees de ces arts compares, rien qui depeude 
d’une doctrine suivie, rien enfin qui puisse donuer uneideed’une 
veritable science.” (Fourcroy, Disc. Prel.) 


«KCT. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


7 


chemical manufactures ; they made glass and artificial gems, 
and excelled in dyeing purple. 

Egypt maintained its superiority in arts until the inva¬ 
sion of Alexandria by the Saracens, when the celebrated 
library collected by the Ptolemies, with great diligence and 
at enormous expense, was burned by the orders of the Ca¬ 
liph Omar . 1 The alchemical works had been previously de¬ 
stroyed by Diocletian in the fourth century, lest the Egyp¬ 
tians should acquire by such means sufficient wealth to 
withstand the Roman power. On the present occasion, 
about seven hundred thousand volumes were seized, which 
we are told supplied six months fuel for forty thousand 
baths, that contributed to the health and convenience of the 
populous capital of Egypt. 

When philosophy declined in Egypt and in the East, 
Greece became the principal seat of learning and of the 
arts ; but the system of their early philosophers, of Thales 2 
the founder of the Ionick sect, of Anaximander, and Anaxi¬ 
menes, breathe the sentiments of the Egyptian schools. 
By Thales, water was considered as the source of all things, 
as the universal element. The opinions of Anaximander, 
in themselves unintelligibly obscure, received some eluci¬ 
dation from his successor Anaximenes ; they regarded air 
and fire as the first rudiments of matter. 

The result of the Macedonian war introduced Grecian 
philosophy into Italy, and the doctrines of Plato , 3 and 
Aristotle, and Theophrastus, prevailed in the school of 
Rome. 

Among the early Roman philosophers, Lucretius 4 stands 
preeminent; but his opinions had been formed at Athens, 

1 “ Qui his scriptis parcendum esse negabat, quippe quae inu- 
tilia essent, si eorum dogmata Alcorano congruerent, noxia vero, 
si ab illo dissentirent.” (Bergman, De primordiis Chemiae.) 

2 500 years B. C. 3 340 years B. C. 4 50 years B. C- 


8 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SRCT. I, 


in the Stoick school of Zeno, and he early imbibed the 
doctrines of Empedocles and Epicurus, which are expound¬ 
ed with superiour genius and admirable ingenuity in his 
masterly poem on the Nature of Things. 

The celebrated Natural History of the elder Pliny, writ¬ 
ten in the first century of the Christian era, contains an ac¬ 
count of the rise and progress of the arts and sciences pre¬ 
vious to that period, which, though not always accurate, 
often obscure, and sometimes unintelligible, abounds in in¬ 
structive documents and interesting remarks. It is written, 
not in the elevated, refined, and elegant style of the Au¬ 
gustan age, but in the language of the laborious and liberal 
historian, frequently led by the extent of his inquiries to 
subjects which he is incompetent to manage, and upon 
which his opinions are incorrect, his conjectures vague, his 
assertions ill founded. 

The origin of many of the follies and mysteries of Al¬ 
chemy may perhaps be referred with most propriety to 
the New PlatonistSy whose rise marked the declining age 
of learning towards the end of the third century of the 
Christian era. These philosophists, celebrated for their 
metaphysical disputes and superstitious notions, credited 
the existence of demons and spirits, with whom they claim¬ 
ed familiar intercourse. Neglecting useful knowledge, they 
exhausted their strength in verbal disputes, and in attempts 
to discover the secrets of the invisible world ; thus gradu¬ 
ally converting the study of philosophy into that of de¬ 
monology and magick. “ Several of these masters,” says 
Gibbon, “ Ammonius, Plotinus, Amelius, and Porphyry, 
were men of profound thought and intense application : 
but, by mistaking the true object of philosophy, their la¬ 
bours contributed much less to improve than to corrupt 
the human understanding.” 


SECT. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


9 


Porphyry died about the time of Diocletian’s abdication. 
The life of his master, Plotinus, which he composed, gives 
a complete idea of the genius of the sect, and the manners 
of the Professors. This curious piece is inserted in Fabri- 
cius. (Bibliotheca Graeca, Tom. IV.) When the culti¬ 
vated part of Europe was overwhelmed by the barbarous 
nations, all records of arts and sciences possessed by the 
Greeks, and by their Roman successors, were swept away 
in the general destruction, and now the Arabians became the 
protectors of philosophy, and the promoters of its pursuits. 
To them, Chemistry, regarded as a distinct branch of ex¬ 
perimental philosophy, owes its origin, and several circum¬ 
stances co-operated to render its progress rapid, which are 
important in their relation to the subsequent advances of 
the science. Among these the mysteries of Alchemy, so 
well adapted to the genius of that age and people, are the 
most remarkable. Of this occult art, the two leading ob¬ 
jects were the transmutation of common metals into gold 
and silver, aud the discovery of the universal medicine , 
which, by the removal and prevention of disease, should 
confer immortality upon the possessors of the secret. 

The origin of these chimerical notions has been various¬ 
ly accounted for. The idea of transmutation may plausibly 
be referred to the various processes to which natural bodies 
were submitted by the aslrological experimentalists of the 
seventh and eighth centuries. Observing the change of 
properties in metalick ores by exposure to heat, and the pro¬ 
duction of malleable and useful metals from their brittle and 
useless compounds, it is not surprising that superficial ob¬ 
servation and incorrect reasoning should lead to a belief in 
their production and transmutation ; and such speculations, 
not without apparent foundation, holding out attraction to 
the ambitious, and hope to the needy, would soon excite 

o 


10 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. It 


notice, and command followers. That this was the case, 
the records of those times amply testify. 

The pursuit of the other object may be referred to the 
success attending the medical employment of many of the 
chemical preparations. Pharmacy was becoming enriched 
by the introduction of chemical compounds ; and remedies 
for diseases, before deemed incurable, were occasionally dis¬ 
covered among the products of the furnace. Hence, per¬ 
haps, the possibility of the existence of an universal reme¬ 
dy might occur to those under the infatuations of the black 
art. 

The earliest of the true Alchemists, whose name has 
reached posterity, is Geber , 1 supposed to have been an Ara¬ 
bian prince of the seventh century. The works attributed 
to Geber, several of which have been published in Latin 
translations by Golius, and others in English by Russell, 
are numerous and curious. They abound in the cant and 
jargon of the hidden art. Some have asserted his preten¬ 
sions to the possession of the universal medicine, for he 
speaks of curing disease. But this seems a mere meta¬ 
phorical expression, relating to transmutation. “ Bring 
me,” says he “ the six lepers, that I may cleanse them 
by which he doubtless would imply the conversion of silver, 
mercury, copper, iron, tin, and lead, into gold,—there be- 

1 “ Primus omnium Arabum post Graecos est Geber , cui dant 
tituium Arabis. Alii dicunt eum fuisse regem. unde rex Geber 
Arabs , dici solet; sed Leo Africanus , qui Graecus fuit et multa 
descripsit ex antiquis Arabibus, dicit, Gebrum ilium natione Grae¬ 
cus fuisse, sed derogasse suam religionem, et se dedisse Mahome- 
dae religioni Arabum, et vixisse septimo seculo.” (Boerbaave.) 

Geber was also a physician and aslronomer. The following 
are the principal works on Chemistry, which have been attributed 
to him : De Alchemia,—De summd perfcctione Mctallorum.—De 
Lapide Philosophico,—De invcnicndi arte Auri et Argenii. These, 
and some other works bearing his name, whether genuine or not, 
furnish good specimens of the early alchemical writings. 


aS€T. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


11 


ing only these seven metals known at that period. Dr. 
Johnson supposes that the word Gibberish , anciently writ¬ 
ten Geberish , was originally applied to tlie language of Ge- 
ber and his tribe. 

The elder Mesne and Avicenna , 1 physicians of the ninth 
and tenth centuries, have given some account of the Che¬ 
mistry of their age, but their works relate chiefly to medi¬ 
cine. Indeed, it is probable, that the writings now extant 
in the name of the former are spurious. 

The twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, abound 1 
in writers on the secrets of Alchemy ; and the happy few 
to whom fate and metaphysical aid had granted the discov¬ 
ery of the great secret, assumed the title of adepts , a charac¬ 
ter which required to be sustained by superiour feats of de¬ 
ception and duplicity. 

About this period, several circumstances happily concur¬ 
red, favourable to the diffusion of learning and the arts, which 
began again to dawn in Europe with promising splendour. 

The extravagant expeditions of the Crusaders tended, in 
these respects, to the most extensive, beneficial, and per¬ 
manent consequences. In their progress to Palestine, 
these ardent followers of the Cross traversed countries 
which, compared with their own, were cultivated, civilized, 
and refined. Their minds and manners were thus enlarged 
and improved, and new customs and institutions attracted 
their notice. 

In Constantinople, then the largest and most magnificent 
of European cities, some traces of ancient elegance and 
refinement were still to be found, and many of the natural 

s Avicenna introduced several important drugs into the Ma¬ 
teria Medica ; and the art of making sugar has been enumerated 
among his discoveries, although, doubtless of earlier date. 


12 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. I. 


products and of the manufactures of the East were offered 
to their notice . 1 

We accordingly discover in these superstitious and en- 
thusiastick expeditions the source of many improvements, 
which afterwards raised Europe to the highest rank among 
nations ; which fended to dispel barbarism, to mitigate the 
fury of war, and to extend commerce ; and which ulti¬ 
mately led to the cultivation of the useful and fine arts, and 
to the diffusion and exaltation of science. 

Another event occurred about this period, which mira¬ 
culously facilitated the acquisition and propagation of 
learning, namely, the invention of printing, which, as it 
were by superhuman mediation, advanced so rapidly to 
perfection, that the finest specimens of typography are to 
be found among the early efforts of the art. It was intro¬ 
duced into England by the Earl of Rivers, in the reign of 
Edward IV . 2 

Of the earlier writers on Chemistry, no one is more de¬ 
serving notice than the celebrated Roger Bacon, a native 
of Somersetshire, who flourished in the thirteenth century. 
His writings, though troubled and polluted by the reigning 
absurdities of Alchemy, contain many curious facts and 
judicious observations. To him the discovery of gun- 

1 “ The first and most obvious progress was in trade and 
manufactures,—in the arts, which are strongly prompted by the 
thirst of wealth, the calls of necessity, and the gratification of 
the seuses or vanity. Among the crowd of unthinking fanatieks, 
a captive or a pilgrim might sometimes observe the superiour 
refinement of Cairo and Constantinople. The first importer of 
windmills was the benefactor of nations; and if such blessings 
are enjoyed without any grateful remembrance, history has con¬ 
descended to notice the more apparent luxurios of silk and 
sugar, which were transported into Italy from Greece and 
Egypt.” ( Gibbon, General consequences of the Crusades , Vol. XI 
p. 289. Edit. 1813.) 


Hume. Edward V. 


SECT. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


13 


powder has, with all appearance of justice, been attri¬ 
buted. 1 “ From saltpetre and other ingredients,” he says, 
“ we are able to form a fire which will burn to any dis¬ 
tance.” And again, alluding to its effects, “ a small por¬ 
tion of matter, about the size of the thumb, properly dis¬ 
posed, will make a tremendous sound and coruscation, by 
which cities and armies might be destroyed.” And again, 
in the same work, is a passage which, though somewhat 
enigmatical, is supposed to divulge the secret of this prepa¬ 
ration. “ Sed tamen salis petrae, luru mone cap urbre , et 
sulphuris, et sic facies tonitrum si scias artificium.” The 
anagram is convertible into carbonum pulvere. Such are 
the claims of Roger Bacon to a discovery which soon 
changed the whole art of war. 

The works of Bacon most deserving perusal are the 
Opus Majus , edited by Dr. Jebb in 1733; and his Epis- 
tola de secretis Operibus Artis et Naturae , et de nullitate 
Magiae. Paris, 1532. The former, addressed to Pope 
Clement IV., breathes sentiments which would do honour 
to the most refined periods of science, and in which many 
of the advantages likely to be derived from that mode of 
investigation insisted upon by his great successor Chan¬ 
cellor Bacon, are anticipated. 

Raymond Lully, Arnold of Villanova, 2 John de Rupe- 
scissa, and Isaac and John of Holland, 3 were Alchemists 

1 Watson’s Chemical Essays , Vol. I. 

It has been by some imagined, that Roger Bacon invented the 
air-pump; but the idea rests upon very doubtful expressions. 
(Boerhaave, Instit. Prolegom.) 

2 Raymond Lully was born in Majorca in 1236, and Villa- 
nova in Provence 1235. Their writings are as obscure as they 
are voluminous. 

3 “ Sequuntur nunc Johannes et Isaacus Hollandus, pater et 
filius, qui diffusissimo sermone et magna eloquentia scripserunt, 
et si unum vel alterum arcanum exceperis, pulcherrima experi- 


14 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. i. 


of the thirteenth, fourteenth, and early part of the fifteenth 
century. Their writings are extremely numerous; and 
they each treat of the philosopher’s stone, and other 
secrets of the occult science. 

Basil Valentine of Erfurt, who wrote towards the end of 
the fifteenth century, is deserving of more attention, and 
ranks among the first who introduced metallick preparations 
into medicine. In his Currus Triumphalis Antimonii> 
after setting forth the chemical preparations of that metal, 
he enumerates their medicinal effects. According to the 
notions of the age, he boasts of supernatural assistance ; 
and his work furnishes a good specimen of the controversial 
disputes between the chemical physicians and those of the 
school of Galen,---the former being attached to active 
remedies, the latter to more simple and inert medicines. 
The Chariot of Antimony opens with the most pious 
exhortations to prayer and contemplation, to charity and 
benevolence. But the author, soon forgetting himself, 
breaks out in the following strain of virulent invective. 
“Ye wretched and pitiful medicasters, who, full of deceit, 
breathe out I know not what Thrasonick brags;—infamous 
men, more mad than Bacchanalian fools ! who will neither 
learn, nor dirty your hands with coals ! you titular doctors, 

menta fecerunt de sanguine et urina humana, quae Helmontius 
postea et Boylaeus pro recentioribus inventis habuerunt.” (Boer- 
haave.) 

1 It is probable that the word Antimony was first used by 
Basil Valentine. Tradition relates, that having thrown some of 
it to the hogs, after it had purged them heartily, they imme¬ 
diately fattened; and, therefore, he imagined, that his fellow 
monks would be the better for a like dose, they having become 
lean by fasting and mortification. The experiment, however, 
failed, and they died ; whence the medicine was called Anti- 
moinc. 

He published several other works besides the Currus Trium 
phalis Antimonii. See Chalmers Biograph. Diet. 


SECT. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


15 


who write long scrolls of receipts ; you apothecaries, who 
with your decoctions fill pots no less than those in princes' 
courts, in which meat is boiled for the sustenance of some 
hundreds of men ; you, 1 say, who have hitherto been 
blind, suffer a collyrium to be poured into your eyes, and 
permit me to anoint them with balsam, that this ignorance 
may fall from your sight, and that you may behold truth as 
in a clear glass. But,” says Basil Valentine, after a long 
exhortation in this strain, “I will put an end to my dis¬ 
course, lest my tears, which I can scarcely prevent con¬ 
tinually falling from my eyes, should blot my writing, and, 
whilst I deplore the blindness of the world, blemish the 
lamentation which I would publish to all men.” 

Such is the trash in which these authors abound, and in 
which curious facts and ingenious speculations are often 
enveloped. 

Basil Valentine was succeeded by the more celebrated 
Paracelsus, a native of a village near Zurich in Switzer¬ 
land.' In this remarkable person, ail the follies and ex¬ 
travagance of the Alchemists were united ;—he pretended 
to the discovery of the grand secret of the universal reme¬ 
dy ; and his writings, which are very numerous, overflow 
with the whims and oddities of the sect; his zeal was more 
directed to the acquisition of popularity than to the ad¬ 
vancement of science ; his enthusiasm was ever misem¬ 
ployed ; and he sought the elevation of his ow n character 

1 He assumed the formidable title of Philippus Aureolus Theo¬ 
phrastus Bombastus Paracelsus ab Hohenheim. 

“ Hunc virum,” says Boerhaave, “ alii coluerunt pro Deo, imo 
locutus sum cum hominibus qui credunt eum non esse mortuum, 
sed vivum sedere in sepulchro pertaesum peccatorum et malo- 
rum hominum.” The following is an illustrative anecdote of 
his impudence: “Cum adscenderet Cathedram physico-medi- 
cam, sumsit vas aeneum cum igne, immisit sulphur et nitrum, et 
simul Galenum, Avicennam, et Arabes conjecit in ignem, 
dicens, sic vos ardebitis in gehenna,” 


16 


THIRD DISSERTATION* 


[sKCTo I. 


in (he abuse and depreciation of his predecessors and con- 
temporaries. He terminated a life, stained with every 
vice, and deficient in every virtue, in the year 1541, at an 
obscure inn at Saltzbourg, in Bavaria. 

In the history of medicine, Paracelsus deserves more 
honourable mention ; for he enriched the Materia Me - 
dica with many powerful remedies, derived from the mine¬ 
ral world, among which several preparations of mercury 
deserve especial notice; nor was he unacquainted with the 
virtues of opium, and other powerful drugs of vegetable 
origin. These he administered with a daring but often 
successful hand, and gained such celebrity, that, in 1527, 
he was promoted by the magistracy of Basle to the office 
of Professor of Physick. In this he expounded his own 
doctrines, asserting that that which was denied him from 
above had been granted by the infernal deities ; and that 
to them he was indebted for those great secrets of phy¬ 
sick and philosophy which he should divulge for the ad¬ 
vantage and salvation of his hearers. Paracelsus, however, 
soon became weary of his situation, and terminated his 
professorial career, which was ill suited to his genius and 
inclinations, in the year 1528 ; he left Basle, and his sub¬ 
sequent life was one disgusting scene of dissolute irregula¬ 
rity. 

The last person whose name deserves to remain upon 
the chemical records of the sixteenth century is Van Hel- 
mont of Brussels, born in 1577, 1 who, at an early age, made 
considerable progress in philosophical studies. As a phy¬ 
sician, he adopted the doctrines of the chemical school, 
and rejected those of Aristotle and Galen ; he effected 
cures so numerous and surprising, that he was accused by 

1 The year 1558, given in Moreri, Dictionnaire Hist, is obvi¬ 
ously incorrect, ‘ Anno 1594, qui erat mihi decimus septimus,” 
&c. (Van Helmont, opera omnia , 1707. Studia Authoris.) 


«CT. 1.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


17 


the inquisition of employing supernatural means, which in¬ 
duced him to retire into Holland. The writings of Van 
Helmont are chiefly upon medical subjects; those con¬ 
nected with chemistry contain some curious speculations 
respecting aeriform fluids, which he calls gases , a term 
now in common use. He also speaks of a subtile invisible 
agent, called Bias , which, he says, is an etherial emanation 
from the heavenly bodies. “ Winds are air agitated by 
the Bias of the stars.” 1 

The doctrine of the Four Elements, as established by 
the ancient philosophers, underwent several alterations in 
the hands of the chemists of the sixteenth century. The 
former regarded Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, as the uni¬ 
versal rudiments of all matter, and assigned to each its 
particular station in the universe. Earth tended towards 
the centre, water to the surface of the globe ; air occupied 
a middle station between water and fire; which last was 
considered as the most rare, subtile, and active of all 
things; it was supposed to constitute the heavenly bodies, 
and to confer life and action upon the other principles, to 
various combinations of which the different productions of 
nature were referred. 

Basil Valentine, Paracelsus, and Van Helmont, speak of 
Salt, Sulphur, and Mercury, as the elementary principles 
of bodies ; but the passages in their works referring to this 
hypothesis, are too dark and absurd to merit quotation ; it 
was, however, adopted by several of their contemporaries 
and successors. 

1 “ Nescivit inquam schola Galenica hactenus differential*! 
inter gas vetitosum, quod mere aer est, id est, ventus per siderum 
bias comrnotus, gas pingue, gas siccum, quod sublimatum dicitur, 
gas fuliginosum sive endemicum, et gas silvestre sive incoerci- 
bile, quod in corpus non cogi potest visibile.” ( Oper. om 
p. 399. 


3 


18 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. I. 


During* (he sixteenth century, some progress was made 
in the elucidation of the chemical arts, especially of Metal¬ 
lurgy, upon which subject the works of Agricola, 1 and of 
Lazarus Erckern, merit particular notice. The former has 
detailed, at considerable length, the various operations em¬ 
ployed in mining, and his descriptions are at once correct 
and elegant ; but his attempts at theory are deeply tinctured 
with the prevailing follies of the age. Agricola, who died 
at Chemnitz in 1555, was succeeded by Erckern, superin- 
tendant-general of the German mines ; “ he is an experi¬ 
enced, candid, and honest writer, relates nothing but what 
he had himself seen, without a word of theory or reasoning, 
and every where speaks as if he were sitting before the 
furnace and relating what passed.” 2 

After wading through the thick fog of alchemical specu¬ 
lation, which envelopes the writers of this period, it is a 
relief to meet with one whose details are thus intelligible, 
and who adheres to matter of fact. 

The periods we have now considered, teemed with search¬ 
ers for the philosophers stone,—the elixir of life,—and the 
universal medicine. Of these such have hitherto only been 
noticed, as conduced, by their experiments and discoveries, 
to the progress of chemical science. 

1 The mineralogical works of Agricola display very minute 

information upon the most important parts of his subject. They 
are, 1 . De ortu et causis subterrancorum. 2. Dc natura eorwn quae 
effluunt ex terra. 3. Dc natura Fossilium. 5. De medicalis fon- 
tibus. 6. De subterraneis animantibus. 7. De vetcribus et novis 
metallis . 8. De re metallica. This last has passed through seve¬ 

ral editions, and is an excellent compendium of what was then 
known upon the theory and practice of the miners art, and of 
the working of metals. 

2 “ Liber ejus (Lazer. Erckern), in folio, est editus lingua Teu¬ 
ton ic a, poilicem crassus et iterum recusus est in Germana, in 4to- 
Est auctor in hac parte optimus.” (Boerhaave.) 


suer, i.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


19 


The records of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries pre¬ 
sent a motley group of these adventurers solely devoted to 
the occult art of transmutation. Some were open impos¬ 
tors ; others deluded believers ; but their respective histo¬ 
ries are, in general, so similar, that an account of one will 
suffice :* Bernard Trevisan, who was born at Paris early in 
the fifteenth century, and who suffered severely under this 
intellectual epidemick, may be cited for the purpose. He 
commenced his career with the unsuccessful repetition of 
certain processes of transmutation described by Rhazes, in 
which he expended eight hundred crowns. The perusal 
of Geber’s treatise on the perfection of the metals rekin¬ 
dled his hopes, and, after wasting two thousand crowns upon 
apparatus and materials, this experiment proved as fruitless 
as the former. The writings of Ruspescissa, Archelaus, 
and Sacrobosca, shortly afterwards engaged his notice ; 
and, to ensure success, he associated himself with a monk, 
and performed a variety of silly but laborious experiments, 
at the expense of more than a thousand crowns. He sub¬ 
mitted the same portion of spirit of wine to three hundred 

1 Among the English alchemists, we may enumerate George 
Ripley, who, in 1471, wrote the Compound of Alchemie , dedicated 
to Edward IV. ; and the celebrated Elias Ashmole, who called 
himself Mercuriophilus Anglicus, and who published and edited 
many treatises on alchemy. He founded the Ashmolean Muse¬ 
um at Oxford in 1679. The reader, who may wish to amuse 
himself with the nonsense of our own alchemists, is referred to 
the Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum , containing severall poeticall 
pieces of our famous English philosophers who have written the Her - 
metique mysteries in their owne antient language , By Elias Ash¬ 
mole, Esq. Qui est Mercuriophilus Anglicus ; and to the celebrated 
alchemical work Philalcthcs. 

The following act of parliament, which Lord Coke calls the 
shortest he ever met with, was passed in the fifth year of Henry 
IV.: “ None from henceforth shall use to multiply gold or silver, 
or use the craft of multiplications, and if any the same do, he shall 
incur the pain of felony.” (Watson’s Chemical Essays.) 


20 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. I. 


distillations, and was engaged during a period of twelve 
years, in a series of fruitless and unmeaning operations upon 
alum, common salt, and copperas. At length he quitted his 
native country for Italy ; thence he proceeded to Spain 
and Turkey, in search of the adepts of the art, from whom 
he hoped to acquire the secret, and reimburse himself. 
Thus having squandered the scanty remains of his broken 
fortune, and reduced nearly to beggary, he retired to the 
isle of Rhodes, where he entered the service of Arnold of 
Villa Nova, from whom he states that he obtained that 
which he so long searched for. So true is that definition 
of Alchemy, which describes it as an art without principle, 
which begins in falsehood, proceeds in labour, and ends in 
beggary. 

Entering upon the seventeenth century, the historian of 
Experimental Science must ever pause to pay a tribute of 
gratitude and respect to the celebrated Francis Bacon ; a 
man whose faults as a statesman have been eclipsed to the 
eyes of posterity, by the brilliancy and excellence of his 
philosophical character. 

It may commonly be observed, that those who are gifted 
by nature with superiour genius or uncommon capacity,— 
who are destined to reach the meridian of science, or to at¬ 
tain exalted stations in the learned professions, have exhibit¬ 
ed early symptoms of future greatness ; either indefatiga¬ 
ble industry, or extraordinary sagacity, or ardent enthusi¬ 
asm, have marked their entrance into the affairs of life. At 
the age of sixteen, Bacon was distinguished at Cambridge ; 
and, very shortly afterwards, struck with the frivolous 
subtilty of the tenets of Aristotle, he appears to have turn¬ 
ed his mind into that channel, which led on to future emi¬ 
nence. The solid foundation of his scientifick character is 
the Installation of the Sciences . It opens with a general 
and philosophical survey of the subject ; whence he pro- 


tfICT. 1.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


21 


ceeds to infer the futility of the ancient philosophical sys¬ 
tems, and to point out Induction, from sober and severe ex¬ 
periments, as the only road to truth. Pursue this, he says, 
and we shall obtain new powers over nature ; we shall per¬ 
form works as much greater than were supposed practica¬ 
ble by natural magick, as the real actions of a Caesar surpas¬ 
sed the fictitious ones of a hero of romance. 

Speculative philosophy he likens to the lark, who brings 
no returns from his elevated flights ; experimental philoso¬ 
phy to the falcon, who soars as high, and returns the pos¬ 
sessor of his prey. 

Illustrations of the new method of philosophizing, and 
the mode of arranging results, conclude this admirable and 
unrivalled performance. 

To do justice to this work, we must, for a moment, forget 
the present healthy and vigorous constitution of science, 
and view it deformed and sickly in the reign of Elizabeth. 
We shall then not be surprised at the irrelative observa¬ 
tions and credulous details, which occasionally blemish this 
masterly production of the human mind. 

But the history of Lord Bacon furnishes other materials 
for reflection. Upon the accession of James I., he became 
successively possessed of the highest honours of the law, 
and acquired great celebrity as a publick speaker and a man 
of business ; yet, amidst the harassing duties of his labori¬ 
ous avocations, he still found time to cultivate and adorn the 
paths of science, the pursuit of which furnished employ¬ 
ment for his scanty leisure, and relaxation in his professional 
toils; and, when ultimately disgraced, “ his genius, yet un¬ 
broken, supported itself amidst involved circumstances and 
a depressed spirit, and shone out in literary productions.” 
Nor should the munificence of his royal master remain un¬ 
mentioned, who, after remitting his fine, and releasing him 
from his prison in the Tower, conferred on him a large pen- 


22 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[*I£C1\ T. 


sion, and used every expedient to alleviate the burden of 
his age, and to blunt the poignancy of his sufferings. 

After the death of Lord Bacon, which happened in 
April 1626, in the 66th year of his age, the records of sci¬ 
ence began to assume a brighter aspect ; and we discern 
true knowledge emerging from the dungeons of scholastick 
controversy, and shaking off the shackles of polemical 
learning. 

The philosophers by fire, as the Chemists were empha¬ 
tically termed, no longer exclusively engaged in seeking for 
the elixir of life, and the stone of transmutation, began to 
direct their endeavours towards more attainable and useful 
objects. They availed themselves of the accumulated facts 
collected by the misguided zeal and barren labours of their 
predecessors, and combined these useless and unseemly 
materials into the foundations of a beautiful and useful de¬ 
partment of knowledge ; but their progress was slow, and 
not unfrequently interrupted by relapse into the follies of 
Alchemy. 

Glauber of Amsterdam, 1 and in this country, the Honoura¬ 
ble Robert Boyle, are characteristick writers of the middle 
of the seventeenth century. The former has detailed ma¬ 
ny curious and interesting facts respecting neutral salts, 
acids, and animal and vegetable substances ; but his descrip¬ 
tions are darkened by the language of the adepts, and valu¬ 
able truths are disguised by being blended with the unin¬ 
telligible jargon of the black art. 

The perusal of Glauber’s chemical works leads to some 
surprise at the multitude of facts with which he was ac¬ 
quainted, and, among them, we meet with discoveries which 
have been considered of modern date. He particularly 

1 A collection of Glauber’s works, in Latin, w r as published at 
Frankfort, in 1658, in 8vo, and in 1659 in 4to. An English 
translation was published at London, in 1689, by C. Pack. 


SECT. 1.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


23 


describes the production of vinegar during the destructive 
distillation of wood. (Miraculum Mundi , p. 1.) The 
following may be selected from among many similar pas¬ 
sages in his writings, as exhibiting the active and original 
turn of mind of this keen and curious inquirer, and as con¬ 
taining the germ of many truths which have been more ful¬ 
ly developed in our own time. 

“ But what other things the said juice of wood is able to 
effect, we cannot here declare, by reason of our intended 
brevity ; yet this I will add, that, if this acid spirit be rec¬ 
tified, it may be used in the preparation of good medicines ; 
in mechanick arts ; in the making of many fair colours from 
the extraction of metals, minerals, and stones ; and for all 
things for which common vinegar is used ; yea, far more 
commodiously, because it much exceedeth common wine 
and beer vinegar in sharpness.” 

He also mentions the tar produced in the same process, 
which he recommends as efficacious in preserving wood that 
is exposed to wealher, and speaks of it, when mixed with 
ashes, as a profitable and quickly acting manure. He fur¬ 
ther points out the method of concentrating the vinegar of 
wood by exposure to cold, “ which freezes the phlegm only, 
but the sharp spirit is not turned into ice, but remaineth in 
the middle of the hogshead, so sharp that it corrodeth me¬ 
tals like aqua-fortis. If hop-poles be dipped in the oil, it 
not only preserves them, but fattens the plant ; and as in¬ 
sects abhor these hot oils, if they be applied to the bark of 
fruit trees, it will defend them from spiders, ants, canker- 
worms, and other insects ; by this means also, rats and 
mice may be prevented from creeping up hovel posts, and 
devouring the grain.” Glauber details a number of experi¬ 
ments relating to the action of (his vinegar of wood, on 
limestone, and notices the use of its compounds ; and that 
he was accurately acquainted with its superiour acidity, ap- 


24 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. I. 


pears from the following quotation : “ It is said that Han¬ 
nibal made a passage through the Alps for himself and his 
army, softening the rocks by the benefit of vinegar. What 
vinegar that was, histories do not mention. Perhaps it was 
the vinegar of wine ; but if he had had the vinegar of wood, 
he might sooner have attained his desire.” 

These shrewd remarks and useful observations are thickly 
scattered through the verbose pages of Glauber. He enrich¬ 
ed the laboratory with new agents, and into medicine he in¬ 
troduced several new and useful remedies. Upon the arts 
he bestowed many improvements, and was among the first 
who seriously endeavoured to benefit agriculture by the me¬ 
dium of experimental chemistry. 

Boyle 1 has left voluminous proofs of his attachment to 
scientifick pursuits, but his experiments are too miscellane¬ 
ous and desultory to have afforded either brilliant or useful 
results ; his reasoning is seldom satisfactory ; and a broad 
vein of prolixity traverses his philosophical works. He 
was too fond of mechanical philosophy to shine in Chemis¬ 
try, and gave too much time and attention to theological and 
metaphysical controversy to attain any excellence in either 
of the former studies. He who would do justice to Boyle’s 
scientific character, must found it rather upon the indirect 
benefits which he conferred, than upon any immediate aid 
which he lent to science. He exhibited a variety of ex¬ 
periments in publick, which kindled the zeal of others more 
capable than himself. He was always open to conviction ; 
and courted opposition and controversy, upon the principle 
that truth is often elicited by the conflict of opinions. His 

1 Boyle was born in January 1627, at Lismore, in the province 
of Munster, in Ireland. He was educated at Eton, and Tier- 
wards travelled in Italy, Switzerland, and France, and returned 
to England in 1644. In 1668 he took up his residence in Lon¬ 
don ; and in 1680 was elected President of the Royal Society 
He died on the 30th of December 1691, aged 65. 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


SECT. I.] 


25 


disposition was ever amiable, mild, and generous, and he was 
at once the patron of learning and of virtue. 

The merit of bringing Hooke 1 before the publick, and of 
pointing out to him the road to eminence, is chiefly due to 
Mr. Boyle, who, in the troublesome and bigotted periods 
of the commonwealth and protectorship, associated himself 
with a few philosophical friends at Oxford, for the purpose 
of promoting experimental inquiry. Hooke, who enjoyed 
the advantage of having been educated at Westminster 
school, under Dr. Busby, was introduced in the year 1655 
to this select society, where his original and inventive ge¬ 
nius was soon discerned and called into action. Boyle en¬ 
gaged him as his operator and assistant, and his talents were 
turned with great success, to the invention and improve¬ 
ment of philosophical instruments, and to many important 
subjects connected with the mechanical arts. 

It was about this period that the physical properties of 
the atmosphere began to attract notice, and that the favour¬ 
ite scholastick notion of Nature’s abhorrence of a vacuum 
was called into question. Galileo was, perhaps, the first 


1 Sir Godfrey Copley, in a letter written about the time of 
Hooke’s death, says, “ Dr. Hooke is very crazy; much concerned 
for fear he should outlive his estate. He hath starved one old 
woman already, and, I believe, he will endanger himself to 
save sixpence for any thing he wants.” In another, written a 
few weeks after his death, Sir Godfrey says, “ I wonder old Dr. 
Hooke did not choose rather to leave his 12,000Z. to continue 
what he had promoted and studied all the days of his life,—I 
mean mathematical experiments, than to have it go to those 
whom he never saw nor cared for. It is rare that virtuosos die 
rich, and it is pity they should, if they were like him.” (Dr. 
DucarreVs MSS. quoted in Biog. Diet.) Hooke sometimes de¬ 
clared, that he intended to dispose of his estate for the advance¬ 
ment of natural knowledge, and to promote the ends for which 
the Royal Society was instituted ; to build a handsome edifice for 
the Society’s use, with a library, laboratory, and repository, and 
to endow a professorship. (Life by Waller.) 

4 


2t> 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[shot. I. 


who broke this spell of Aristotelian philosophy ; and in 
the year 1644, the grand discovery of atrnospherick pres¬ 
sure, and its variation, was announced by Torricelli, the 
celebrated inventor of the barometer/ The idea of con¬ 
structing a machine for the purpose of rarefying air, first 
occurred to Otto Guericke, who, after many fruitless 
attempts, succeeded by means of a sucking pump, in with¬ 
drawing a considerable portion of air from the interiour of 
a copper ball. With this awkward and imperfect air- 
pump, he performed several notable experiments. One 
of these is often exhibited at the present day. It consists 
in exhausting a hollow brass globe, composed of two hemi¬ 
spheres, closely fitted to each other. When a portion of 
the interiour air is removed, the pressure of the exteriour 
atmosphere is such, as to resist considerable force applied 
to separate the hemispheres. This is called the Magde- 
burgh experiment, and was first publickly exhibited in the 
year 1654 before the deputies of the empire, and foreign 
ministers assembled at the diet of Ratisbon. This original 
air-pump, invented by the Burgomaster of Magdeburgh, 
w^as greatly improved by Hooke, who, in conjunction with 
Boyle, performed by its means a variety of new and im¬ 
portant experiments, illustrative of the mechanical proper¬ 
ties of the atmosphere, which, at a subsequent period, 

1 The Peripateticks maintained, that the creation of a vacuum 
was impossible, even to supernatural power. This dogma was 
first shaken by a circumstance which happened to some workmen 
employed by the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Having sunk a deep 
well, they endeavoured to bring the water to the surface by a 
common sucking pump, but fouud, to their surprise, that they 
could only make it ascend to the height of about 30 feet. Ga¬ 
lileo, whose talents had gained him great celebrity and respect, 
was consulted in this emergency. His answ r er was, that, although 
nature does dislike a vacuum, there is a certain limit to her an¬ 
tipathy, equivalent to the pressure of a column of water eighteen 
palms high. 


SECT. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


27 


tended considerably to the progress of pneumatick chemis¬ 
try. 

The works of Hooke, chiefly interesting to the chemist, 
are his Micrographia and Lampas , the former published 
in 1664, the latter in 1677. They contain anticipations of 
many of the subsequent changes and improvements of 
chemical theory, which will be noticed in a future page of 
this history. 

Both the private and publick character of Dr. Hooke 
exhibit many faults, and are stained with many blemishes. 
His temper was peevish, reserved, and mistrustful; and he 
wanted that candour and dignity of mind which should 
raise the philosopher above the level of ordinary men. He 
was born at Freshwater, in the Isle of Wight, in 1635, and 
died in London in the year 1702. 

Immediately after the Restoration, the gentlemen who 
formed the Philosophical Society al Oxford adjourned to 
London, where they held their meetings in Gresham Col¬ 
lege, and considerably extended the number of their mem¬ 
bers. The King, who himself loved science, countenanced 
and patronized their proceedings; and, on the 15th of 
July 1662, granted a royal charter, constituting them a 
body corporate, under the name of The Royal Society of 
London , for promoting Natural Knowledge . In the 
year 1665 was published the first number of the Philo¬ 
sophical Transactions , of which work, justly regarded as 
the standard of English science, a volume has been pub¬ 
lished annually since the year 1762. 

This laudable and rare example of Charles the Second 
was followed by Lewis the Fourteenth of France ; and in 
the year 1666 the Royal Academy of Sciences was insti¬ 
tuted at Paris, under the immediate protection of that 
monarch. Neither was the patronage cold, nor the ho¬ 
nours empty, which were bestowed by Lewis on the fol- 


28 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. I. 


lowers of science. Salaries he conferred upon scientifick 
bodies, and pensions upon learned men, “ a generosity,” 
says Hume, “which does great honour to his memory, and 
in the eyes of all the ingenious part of mankind will be 
esteemed an atonement for many of the errours of his reign. 
We may be surprised,” continues the historian, “ that this 
example should not be more followed by Princes, since it 
is certain that bounty so extensive, so beneficial, and so 
much celebrated, cost not this monarch so great a sum as 
is often conferred upon one useless overgrown favourite or 
courtier.” Happily for the scientifick character of Britain, 
the genius, talents, and exertions of individuals have ever 
been sufficient to counterbalance such advantages; and 
thus nurtured and protected, the growth of science has not 
been less rapid or vigorous than where she has enjoyed the 
sunshine of royal favour. 

With the great and unrivalled name of Newton, we close 
the records of the seventeenth century. To him Chemis¬ 
try is indebted for the first correct views respecting the 
nature of combination; a subject which had little engaged 
the attention of the more sensible experimentalists of the 
preceding periods, and which was formerly attributed to 
the occult qualities of the Aristotelians, and afterwards to 
the mechanical forms of the particles of bodies. 1 

Chemical affinity was referred by Newton to the diffe¬ 
rent attractive powers of the different kinds of matter in 
regard to each other. Salt of tartar becomes moist by 
exposure to air, because that salt attracts the humidity of 
the atmosphere. Muriatick acid unites with salt of tartar 
by virtue of their respective attractions ; but when oil of 

1 We shall again have occasion to refer to certain chemical 
opinions of Newton. In the present instance, reference is made 
to the thirty-first query annexed to the Third Book of Opticks . 
(Newton, Opera Omnia , 4to, Lond. 1782.) 


SF.CT. I.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


29 


vitriol is poured upon this compound, the former acid is 
displaced by the superiour attraction of the latter. Silver 
dissolved in aqua-fortis is separated from that menstruum 
by the superiour attraction of quicksilver; in like manner 
copper separates quicksilver; and iron, copper. Refer- 
ring to these and other similar instances, “ does not this” 
says he “ argue, that the acid particles of the aqua-fortis 
are attracted more strongly by iron than by copper, by 
copper than by quicksilver, and by,quicksilver than by 
silver?” Such are the simple but clear, and, in most in¬ 
stances, correct suggestions, relating to the subject of at¬ 
traction, which Chemistry owes to the great luminary of 
Mechanical Philosophy. 

In tracing the history of Chemistry from early times, 
through the dark ages, to the beginning of the last century, 
I have noticed only such authors as conduced by the 
weight or novelty of their writings, the importance of their 
discoveries, or the example of their zeal, to the more 
immediate progress and elucidation of this department of 
philosophy. The annals of a period so extensive must 
necessarily record a host of experimentalists, to whose 
researches it would upon the one hand be impossible to do 
justice; and whose names, on the other, it would be use¬ 
less to repeat. It may however be remarked, that alem- 
bicks, and other complex distillatory apparatus, were em¬ 
ployed by the alchemical physicians who flourished be¬ 
tween the ninth and thirteenth centuries. Mesue mentions 
the distillation of rose-water, and the production of spirit 
of wine is noticed by Raymond Dully. At this time, too, 
furnaces of peculiar construction, and a variety of complex 
apparatus and accoutrements, were introduced into the 
laboratory. 

During the-fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Alchemy 
was at its acme, and many were the unw r ary and avaricious 


30 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. 1. 


who were entrapped by the golden prospects and plausible 
mysticism of the art. Among them was that admirable 
artist Mazzuoli of Parma, better known under the name of 
Parmagiano. 

Curious discoveries and useful inventions multiplied ra¬ 
pidly during the seventeenth century. Kunckel, in Saxo¬ 
ny, successfully promoted the Chemistry of the Arts. In 
1669, Brandt of Berlin discovered Phosphorus, and about 
the same time Ilomberg accidentally produced a sponta¬ 
neously inflammable compound, which he called Pyropho- 
rus. In 16f4 the elder Lemery acquired great and de¬ 
served fame at Paris as a chemical lecturer. He was the 
first who threw aside the affected and pompous diction 
habitually indulged in by his predecessors and contempo¬ 
raries, and adopted a simple and perspicuous style, which 
at once tended to the ready diffusion of his subject, and 
to its permanent popularity. When he published his 
course, “ it sold” says Fontenelle “ like a novel or a 
satire.” 

The establishment of literary and scientifick societies 
during this age was another grand step towards the promo¬ 
tion of knowledge, and the period was particularly propi¬ 
tious to their progress. Bacon, Galileo, and Kepler, had 
opened that road to truth which was so eagerly and suc¬ 
cessfully pursued by Boyle, Hooke, and Mayow, in this 
country, and in which the miraculous mind of Newton 
displayed its brilliant powers. In Germany, Beecher and 
Stahl are entitled to particular mention. The suggestions 
of the former, who was a man of an acute and inquisitive 
turn of mind, led the latter into that* train of speculation 
which terminated in producing the Phlogistick Theory, 
and which will presently be more particularly considered. 
Homberg, Geoffroy, and the two Lemerys, were zealous 
followers of experimental chemistry in France, at the 


SECT. II.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


31 


establishment of the Royal Academy of Sciences. In 
short, the independent zeal and healthy activity in scien- 
tifick pursuit, which has since marked its progress in 
Europe, became manifest early in the seventeenth centu¬ 
ry ; and the causes I have attempted to unfold contributed 
to the splendour which it began to acquire about the end 
of that important era in the general history of the world. 
The clouds of ignorance and errour quickly dispersed 
before this happy dawn of true knowledge ; and science, 
no longer enveloped in scholastick mystery and absurd 
speculation, began to display those inherent charms, which 
gained her the courtship and admiration of every liberal 
and cultivated mind, and which laid the foundation of that 
extended dominion which she acquired in the succeeding 
age. 1 


SECTION II. 

STATE OF CHEMISTRY AT THE OPENING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CEN¬ 
TURY.—OPINIONS OF BECCHER AND STAHL RESPECTING THE PHE¬ 
NOMENA OF COMBUSTION, COMPARED WITH THE VIEWS OF REY AND 

MAYOW.-PNEUMATICS CHEMISTRY OF HAILES AND BOERHAAVE.— 

INVENTION OF THE THERMOMETER. 

The history of the progress of Chemistry during the 
seventeenth century presents many active and able inqui¬ 
rers, whose researches tended to develope new properties 
and combinations of bodies ; but their attempts at theory 

1 Those who are desirous of consulting the alchemical authors, 
and of becoming particularly acquainted with the titles of their 
voluminous productions, will find a curious body of information 
on these subjects in the Histoire de la Philosophic Hermetique , Pa¬ 
ris, 1742.—Gobet’s Ancicns Miner alogistes, published at Paris in 
1779, gives some details of the early progress of Mineralogicat 
Chemistry in France. 




32 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. II 


and generalization were, with few exceptions, absurd and 
abortive. They consisted in wild hypothesis and vague 
speculation, and were founded, not upon the sober and 
steady basis of truth, but upon the unreal and tottering 
visions of the imagination. The spirit of Lord Bacon was 
slow in animating experimental philosophy, until Newton 
rose to surprise and illumine the world. It then assumed 
a new and cheerful aspect, and quick was its growth, and 
illustrious its progress, under the invigorating influence of 
that sun of science. 

Although Chemistry does not lie under the same weighty 
obligations to Newton as mechanical philosophy, he con¬ 
ferred upon it a great and lasting benefit, by the disclosure 
of those clear and simple views which have already been 
alluded to . 1 The important deductions, too, which flow in 

1 The following passages, in addition to the previous observa¬ 
tions in the text, will be sufficient in illustration of Newton’s 
views of Elective Attractions. 

“ Have not the small particles of bodies certain powers, vir¬ 
tues, or forces, by which they act at a distance, not only upon, 
the rays of light, for reflecting, refracting, and inflecting them, 
hut also upon one another, for producing a great part of the 
phenomena of nature ? for, it is well known, that bodies act one 
upon another by the attractions of gravity, magnetism, and elec¬ 
tricity ; and these instances show the tenor and course of nature, 
and make it not improbable that there may be more attractive 
powers than these. For nature is very consonant and conform¬ 
able to herself. How these attractions may be performed I do 
not here consider; what I call attraction may be performed by 
impulse, or by some other means unknown to me. I use that 
word here to signify only, in general, any force by which bodies 
tend towards one another, whatsoever be the cause. For we 
must learn from the phenomena of nature, what bodies attract 
one another, and what are the laws and properties of the attrac¬ 
tion, before we inquire the cause by which the attraction is 
performed. The attraction of gravity, magnetism, and elec¬ 
tricity, reach to very sensible distances, and so have been ob¬ 
served by vulgar eyes, and there may be others which reach to 
so small distances as hitherto escape observation, and perhaps 
electrical attraction may reach to such small distances even 


S8CT. II.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION 


33 


easy perspicuity from his experimental researches, soon 
became general models of imitation; and the new style 
which we discern in the philosophical authors of the early 
part of the eighteenth century throughout Europe, may, in 
a great measure, be referred to the lofty example before us. 

No sooner was the spell of Alchemy broken, than the 
phenomena of combustion began to attract the notice of the 

without being excited by friction. For, when salt of tartar 
runs per deliquium, is not this done by an attraction between the 
particles of the salt of tartar and the particles of the water which 
float in the air in the form of vapours ? And why does not com¬ 
mon salt, or saltpetre, or vitriol, run per deliquium , but for want 
of such an attraction ? Or why does not salt of tartar draw more 
water out of the air than in a certain proportion to its quantity, 
but for want of an attractive force after it is satiated with water ? 
And whence is it but from this attractive power that water, 
which alone distils with a gentle and lukewarm heat, will not 
distil from salt of tartar, without a great heat ? And is it not 
from the like attractive power, between the particles of oil of 
vitriol and the particles of water, that oil of vitriol draws to it 
a good quantity of water out of the air; and, after it is satiated, 
draws no more, and in distillation lets go the water very diffi¬ 
cultly? And when the water and oil of vitriol, poured succes¬ 
sively into the same vessel, grow very hot in the mixing, does 
not this argue a great motion in the parts of the liquors ? And 
does not this motion argue that the parts of the two liquors, in 
mixing, coalesce with violence, and, by consequence, rush to¬ 
wards one another with an accelerated motion ? And when 
aqua-fortis, or spirit of vitriol, poured upon filings of iron, dis¬ 
solves the filings with a great heat and ebullition, is not this 
heat and ebullition effected by a violent motion of the parts?” 
&c. “ When spirit of vitriol, poured upon common salt or salt¬ 

petre, makes an ebullition with the salt, and unites with it, and, 
in distillation, the spirit of the common salt or saltpetre comes 
over much easier than it would do before, and the acid part of 
the spirit of vitriol stays behind;—does not this argue that the 
fixed alcaly of the salt attracts the acid spirit of the vitriol, more 
strongly than its own spirit; and, not being able to hold them 
both, lets go its own ?”•—Newton’s Opticks , Opera omnia, 4to, 
Lond. 1782. 


34 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. II. 


early chemical theorists. The influence of the air upon 
this process had been long observed, and many of the 
changes suffered by the combustible, had been examined 
with a surprising degree of acuteness and precision ; for 
fire was almost the only agent employed at that period to 
effect combination and decomposition. These inquiries 
constitute a prominent feature in the history of Chemistry. 
It may therefore be requisite to pursue them with a minute 
attention, which may at first appear tedious, but which will 
gain in importance and interest as they proceed. 

The first speculations in theoretical Chemistry deserv¬ 
ing attention, are those of John Joachim Beecher of Spires, 
who died in England in 1685. He gained considerable 
celebrity at Vienna and Haerlem, for improvements in arts 
and manufactures, but was induced to retire to this country, 
in consequence of the jealousy of rivals, and the neglect of 
those upon whom he had conferred benefits. His works 
abound in shrewd and witty remarks, and in deep and curi¬ 
ous reasoning,—in frivolous subtilty, and in weighty and 
sensible observations. His hypothesis respecting the ori¬ 
gin of the varieties of matter, from the mutual agencies 
and combinations of a few elementary principles, though 
unnecessarily blended with scriptural history, are charac¬ 
terized by considerable brilliancy of thought and originality 
of invention. They are detailed at great length in his 
Pkysica Subterranean which treats on the original creation 
of matter, and the transition and interchange of elements. 
The Institutiones Chemicae , or CEdipus Chemicus , of this 
author, is another curious production, containing the history 
of the chemical elements, and describing the leading opera¬ 
tions of the laboratory. Earth was the favourite element 
of this philosopher, of which he supposed three varieties to 
exist, namely, a vitrifiable, a metallick, and an inflammable 


iter, ii.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


35 


earth. Of these the various productions of nature were 
formed. 1 

But the most celebrated chemical theorist of the latter 
part of the seventeenth century is Ernest Stahl, born at 
Anspach in Franconia, in 1660. He adopted many of the 
opinions of Beecher respecting the cause of inflammability, 
and upon these foundations reared the celebrated System 
of Phlogiston, according to which, inflammability is sup¬ 
posed to depend upon the presence of a highly subtile and 
elastick matter, which, at certain temperatures, is thrown 
into violent motion, and appears under the form of flame or 
fire. Combustion is the separation of this principle, and 
bodies contain it in various proportions. Charcoal, for in¬ 
stance, when burned, leaves scarcely any residuum, and is, 
therefore, nearly pure phlogiston. Antimony, when burn- 

1 Beecher wrote voluminously upon a great variety of subjects. 
His principal chemical works are as follows. 

1. Oedipus Chemicus . 2. Metallurgia , de generatione, rejina- 
tione , et perfectione Metallorum. 3. Physica Subterranean and its 
various appendices. 4. Parnassus Medicinalis Illustratus . 5. 

Laboratorium Porlabile. 6. Chytnischcr Roscn-garten. 

Beecher’s Oedipus is dedicated to Francis Sylvius Delebiie, 
who, in 1658, was elected the first Professor of Medicine in the 
University of Leyden. He was a man of an acute mind, as 
appears from his various essays and tracts, more especially from 
his Praxcos Med. Idea Nova. He died at Leydon in 1672. 
“ Utilissimum profecto munus subiisti, quo tui auditores non 
verba sed corpora, non chymerasticos terminos, verum ipsas 
reales enchyrises, non inanes denique et immateriales facilitates, 
sed a te demonstrati, effectus causas practicas audiunt, vident, 
tangunt-” Beecher every where compliments him as a man 
not of words, but of deeds; as a philosopher, who eminently 
sought to render science popular and intelligible to all capaci¬ 
ties. 

The language of Beecher’s Physica Subierranea is sufficiently 
inelegant and incorrect. “ Excuso Latinitatem in hoc opere,” 
says he, “ quam barbaram esse fateor, ob materiem et ob scrip- 
tionem, in specie scriptionis modum: ex ore enim dictantis 
totum opus conceptum est. - Sic rebus altentus, verba neglexi.” 
This is at once an example and apology. 


36 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. h . 


ed, affords a large proportion of earthy matter. If this 
earth be heated with charcoal, or other matter abounding 
in phlogiston, antimony is regenerated ; this metal, there¬ 
fore, is a compound of earth and phlogiston. 

If sulphurick acid, which is not inflammable, be distilled 
with oil of turpentine, which is extremely so; or, in other 
words, if phlogiston be added to sulphurick acid, sulphur 
is obtained. Sulphur, therefore, is a compound body, con¬ 
sisting of sulphurick acid and phlogiston. If sulphur and 
common soda be fused together, a brown compound is ob¬ 
tained, formerly called liver of sulphur, and the same pro¬ 
duct results when charcoal is heated with Glauber’s salt, 
which consists of soda combined with sulphurick acid. 
Such was Stahl’s explanation of the phenomena of com¬ 
bustion, and such the apparently plausible experimental 
proofs upon which it was founded. 1 

In Germany and in France, the phlogistick doctrine was 
received with that thoughtless and eager enthusiasm which 
suffers the blaze of novelty to eclipse the steady light of 
truth, and which is rather captivated by plausible exteriour 
than by internal excellence. Even in this country the 
experiments of Boyle and of Hooke, if not forgotten, were 
over-looked, and hypothesis for a time gained the ascen- 

1 Stahl's doctrines are very ably set forth in his Three Hun¬ 
dred Experiments, published at Berlin in 1731; and in his Funda- 
mcnta Chemiae, Nuremberg, 1723 and 1732. He observed the 
necessity of air to combustion, and considered flame or fire as 
resulting from its violent etherial agitations. Stahl is continually 
urging circumspection in hypotheses, yet preconceived opinions 
are always leading him to erroneous conclusions, as the following 
passages amply prove. “Aer ignis est anima, hinc, sine aere 
nihil potest accendi vel inflammari.”—Aer in motum excitatus, 
seu ventus artiflcialis, vel etiam naturalis, mirum excitat motum 
aetheris, seu flammam; hinc ad ignem fusorium, et vitrificatorium, 
promovendum, follibus opus est; imo gradus et vehementia ignis 
dependet multum ex aeris admissione.” Fund. Chem. dogmat. et 
ration, p. 22. 


eBor. a.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


37 


dancy over facts ; for it had been most satisfactorily de¬ 
monstrated by those experimentalists, that bodies will not 
burn if air be excluded, and that, during combustion, a 
portion of the air is consumed by the burning body. Even 
at an earlier period, the same observation had been most 
pointedly dwelt upon, and another equally important circum¬ 
stance ascertained, namely, the increase of weight sus¬ 
tained by metals during their calcination. As early as 
1629, Brun, an Apothecary, resident in the town of Ber¬ 
gerac in France, melted two pounds six ounces of tin, and 
in six hours the whole was converted into a calx, which 
weighed seven ounces more than the tin employed. Brun, 
surprised at this circumstance, communicated it to John 
Rey, 1 a physician of Perigord, who, in 1630, published a 
Tract upon the subject, in which he refers the increase of 
weight to the absorption and solidification of air : “ Thus,” 
says Rey, in the fanciful language of the period, “ have I 
succeeded in liberating this surprising truth from the dark 
dungeons of obscurity; which was vainly but laboriously 
sought after by Cardan, Scaliger, Faschius, Caesalpinus, 
and Libavius. Others may search for it, but in vain, 
unless they pursue the royal road which I have cleared. 
The labour has been mine,—the profit is the reader’s,— 
the glory is from above.” 

But amongst the authors whose researches tended to 
conclusions diametrically opposite to those of Stahl and 
his associates, and whose writings abound in anticipations of 

1 Essays de Jean Rey, Bocteur en Medecine, sur la Recherche 
de la Cause pour laquellc VEstain et le Plomb augmentent de poids 
quand on les calcine .” Paris, 1777. 

Of these curious essays, originally printed in 1630, a copy was 
discovered in the Royal Library at Paris in 1776. The scarcity 
of the first edition is in some measure accounted for in the 
“Advertisement” to the present, but the rarity of this reprint is 
very enigmatical. 


38 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. ir. 


modern discoveries, no one stands so conspicuous as our 
countryman John Mayow. 1 His tracts, published at Ox¬ 
ford in 1674, relating to chemical, physiological, and medi¬ 
cal subjects, abound in traits of original and inventive 
genius, and furnish the prototype of many discoveries, 
which have conferred great and lasting renown upon suc¬ 
ceeding labourers in the field of Chemistry. It is the 
treatise upon nitre and the nitro-aerial spirit to which I 
principally allude, and of which it may be proper to give a 
short but connected sketch. 

The atmosphere, he observes, contains a certain nitro- 
saline matter, a spirit, vital, igneous, and fermentative, 
which exists in, and may be obtained from nitre ; that it 
supports combustion, but is itself incombustible ; that it 
exists in nitrick acid; that when antimony is exposed to 
the joint operation of heat and air, it imbibes the nitro- 
aerial particles, whence its increase in weight; and that a 
similar change may be effected by nitre or by nitrick acid; 
that acidity depends upon the absorption of the same prin¬ 
ciple which in sulphurick acid is combined with sulphur, 
either during combustion, or during the exposure of pyrites 
to air: that fermentation is referable to a very similar 
cause : that it is necessary to vegetation, and present in 
all cases of combustion; that it is absorbed by animals 
during respiration ; and that the same substance which 
contributes to the support of flame, is likewise required for 
the support of life. Mayow also was acquainted with the 

1 Mayow was born in Cornwall in 1645, and died in London 
in 1679, at the early age of thirty-nine. Dr. Beddoes and Dr. 
Yeats have asserted Mayow’s claims to several modern discove¬ 
ries ; and in many other instances than those quoted in the text, 
he has certainly anticipated both the discoveries and inventions 
of some of his chemical successors. All Mayow’s tracts are 
deserving of attentive perusal and are of full knowledge. The 
first and second, Dc Sal-nitro et Spirito Nitro-acrio and Dc Rcspi- 
ratione , contain a vast body of chemical facts, resulting from well 
conceived and conducted experiments. 


IECT. II.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


39 


evolution of air during the action of nitrick and vitriolick 
acids upon iron, and points out a mode of collecting it, in 
bottles inverted in vessels of the dilute acids. He ob¬ 
serves that the air generated in these experiments, although 
expansible by heat, is probably different from the atmos¬ 
phere, as is also the air which an animal has breathed, and 
in which a candle has burned. 

These are a few of the important facts dwelt upon by 
Mayow, respecting the nature of the atmosphere, and of 
the cause of combustion. That they were not at the time 
opposed to the purely speculative notions of Stahl is truly 
remarkable, for they explain, in conjunction with the ob¬ 
servations of Rey and others, the great obstacle to the 
phlogistick hypothesis, the increase of weight in the burn¬ 
ing body ; they show the real cause of the necessity of the 
presence of air, which, if combustion consisted in the mere 
evolution of the subtile principle of fire, could not be re¬ 
quired ; and they adduced experimental evidence, where 
Stahl merely surmised. 

Another active inquirer occurs in this page of chemical 
history ; one whose researches cleared the way for the 
great discoveries of the succeeding era, and to whom the 
merit is justly due of having opened a mine in the field of 
nature; who indulged, not in the speculative and meta¬ 
physical frivolities which characterize the productions of 
most of his predecessors, and many of his contemporaries, 
but followed nature with a steady and unerring step, and 
recorded his observations in a concise, unadorned and un¬ 
affected style. This was the Reverend Dr. Stephen 
Hales. 1 He was the first who instituted researches into 

1 Born in 1077 ; died in 1761. Dr. Hales is one of the few 
divines who have employed their abundant leisure in philosophi¬ 
cal and experimental researches. It is said that he refused high 
preferment upon more than one occasion, in order that he might 
attend to his humble parochial duties, and continue his scien- 
tifick pursuits. 


40 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sacr. u< 


the physiology of vegetation, a subject which he pursued 
with considerable ardour and perseverance. He also made 
a variety of experiments upon the extrication of air during 
the exposure of animal, vegetable, and mineral substances 
to heat. In perusing his Essays on these subjects, we 
frequently find him upon the verge of those splendid dis¬ 
coveries which fell to the lot of his fellow-labourers and 
successors ; but the erroneous nature of his preconceived 
opinions induced him to take for granted that which expe¬ 
riment should have determined, and to rest satisfied with 
results which, had they been followed up, would inevitably 
have led to the most important and novel facts. His experi¬ 
ments do credit to his industry, but his conclusions betray 
feebleness of judgment. If, instead of regarding the varb> 
ous gaseous products obtained from the substances he 
operated upon, as consisting of common air contaminated 
by their effluvia, he had submitted them to more close in¬ 
vestigation, he would doubtless have run a more brilliant 
and successful career. He is justly regarded as the foun¬ 
der of Pneuraatick Chemistry, but he contributed few ma¬ 
terials to the superstructure. 

Herman Boerhaave, 1 of Leyden, who was a contempo¬ 
rary of Hales, pursued a similar train of inquiries ; but, 

He directed his attention to the quantity of moisture imbibed 
and emitted by different plants, and to the circulation of the 
sap, which, he says, put him upon making a more particular 
inquiry into the nature of a fluid which is so absolutely necessary 
for the support of the life and growth of animals and vegetables. 

His Specimen of an Attempt to analyse the Air by Chymiostati - 
cal Experiments displays extraordinary ingenuity in the contri 
vance of experiments and apparatus. It was his misfortune to 
consider the various gases which he procured as mere modifica¬ 
tions of atmospherick air. Philos. Trans . Statical Essays , Lon¬ 
don, 1731. 

1 Boerhaave was born in December 1668, at a village near 
Leyden. He died in September 1738. He was an emineut 


SECT. II.] 


THIRD dissertation. 


41 


although many of his experiments were new and well con¬ 
ceived, he was not more happy in his conclusions, nor 
more fortunate in his discoveries. He attributed the elas¬ 
ticity of air to its union with fire, and considered its pon¬ 
derable matter as susceptible of chemical combinations ; 
but the existence of different aeriform fluids escaped his 
notice. 

ornament of medicine, as well as of chemical science. His 
oration upon resigning the office of Governour of the University 
of Leyden has been justly eulogised by Johnson. (Life of 
Bocrhaave.) He here declares in the strongest terms (says his 
elegant biographer) in favour of experimental knowledge, and 
reflects with just severity upon those arrogant philosophers, who 
are too easily disgusted with the slow methods of obtaining true 
notions by frequent experiments, and who, possessed with too 
high an opinion of their own abilities, rather choose to consult 
their own imaginations than inquire into nature, and are better 
pleased with the charming amusement of forming hypotheses 
than the toilsome drudgery of making observations. 

The emptiness and uncertainty of all those systems, whether 
venerable for their antiquity, or agreeable for their novelty, he 
has evidently shown ; and not only declared, but proved, that 
we are entirely ignorant of the principles of things, and that all 
the knowledge we have is of such qualities alone as are dis¬ 
coverable by experience, or such as may be deduced from them 
by mathematical demonstration. 

Boerhaave’s contributions to physick were large and valuable. 
His principal chemical work is the Elementa Chemiae, of which a 
good translation, with notes, was edited in 1753 by Dr. Shaw r . 
This work he dedicated to his brother, who was intended for the 
medical profession, but went into the church; while Boerhaave, 
who originally studied divinity, relinquished it for physick and 
chemistry. Alluding to this circumstance, “ Providence,” says 
he, “ has changed our views, and consigned you to religious 
duties, while I, w hose talents were unequal to higher objects, am 
humbly content with the profession of physick.” 

In the Elementa , and in several of his Orations, are admirable 
remarks upon the useful application of Chemistry to other 
branches of knowledge. His observations upon its usefulness 
and necessity to the medical practitioner, may be well enforced 
at the present day; for, excepting in the Schools of London 
and Edinburgh, Chemistry, as a branch of education, is either 
entirely neglected, or. what is perhaps worse, superficially and 

6 


42 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. II. 


The philosophers whose names have been now recorded, 
not only greatly added to the stock of chemical facts col¬ 
lected by their predecessors, but conferred new life and 
vigour upon the science by their occasional incursions in¬ 
to the regions of theory and rational speculation :—in this 
light, the works of Key, Mayow, and Stahl, deserve par¬ 
ticular attention; the two former for correctness and pre¬ 
cision, the latter for boldness and ingenuity. 

About this period the Thermometer was brought to 
perfection, which tended materially to the progress of 
that most refined and difficult branch of Chemical Philoso¬ 
phy, relating to the nature and effects of heat. The re¬ 
searches, on this subject, will presently form an important 
feature in our history, which renders it proper to notice 
this instrument of such consequence in their prosecution. 

That bodies change in bulk, with variations of tempera¬ 
ture, must have been noticed at a very early period ; but 
there can be little doubt, that the idea of constructing an in¬ 
strument for measuring these variations first occurred to 
Santorio, 1 Professor of Medicine, in the University of 
Padua, in the beginning of the seventeenth century ; he 
is also celebrated for his Medico-statical experiments, 
which are well burlesqued in one of the early numbers of 
the Spectator . 2 3 

imperfectly taught- This is especially the case at the English 
Universities, and the London Pharmacopoeia is a record of the 
want of chemical knowledge, where it is most imperiously re¬ 
quired. 

1 Santorio was born in 1561 at Capo d’Istria, on the borders 
of the Gulf of Trieste. He died at Venice in 1636. His 

Ars de Statica Medicina was published at Venice in 1614. Much 
merit is due to the steady perseverance with which he opposed 
the occult remedies of the empiricks of his day. 

3 No. 25. By Addison. 


SSCT. If.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


43 


Santorio’s thermometer consisted of a tube, blown at 
one end into a bulb, and with the other open extremity 
immersed into water. In cold weather the confined air 
contracted and the water rose in the tube—in a warm at¬ 
mosphere the air expanded and the fluid fell. Santorio 
observed some other particulars connected with the opera¬ 
tion of this thermometer, among which the increased in¬ 
fluence of the sun’s rays, when the bulb was blackened, 
deserves notice. 

The Academicians del Cimento, whose early labours 
have already been mentioned, materially altered and im¬ 
proved the thermometer, by employing a liquid to measure 
temperature, instead of air, the changes of bulk in which, in a 
moderate range of temperature, are so considerable as to ren¬ 
der the instrument extremely bulky and otherwise incon¬ 
venient. They generally used spirit of wine, and fixed a 
scale of degrees to the tube, with a view to ascertain its 
variations in bulk with greater precision. These instru¬ 
ments soon acquired considerable celebrity, and were 
largely circulated under the appellation of the Florence 
Glass. In this state the uses of the thermometer were ex¬ 
tremely limited, no two instruments corresponded, and 
there being a free communication between the fluid and 
the external air, it was liable to evaporation,—yet was this 
thermometer much preferable to the over-sensible and bul¬ 
ky instrument of Santorio. There was another objection 
to spirit of w ine, arising out of the readiness with which 
it assumes an elastick state, and wdiich renders it unfit for 
measuring temperatures even below the heat of boiling 
water. Sir Isaac Newton, therefore, suggested the use 
of linseed oil, which, however, is extremely ill adapted to 
the purpose, on account of its unctuosity, and the ease 
with which it solidifies. Quicksilver was first recorri- 


u 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. II. 


mended by Roemer, 1 the eminent Danish philosopner, 
who discovered the motion of light; it was also employed 
by Dr. Halley, and is now generally used. The advan¬ 
tages of this fluid metal in the construction of the thermo¬ 
meter are manifold ; it retains its liquid state at very high 
and very low temperatures, and has the peculiar excellence 
of expanding very equally for equal increments of heat, 
which is far from the case with spirit of wine. 

But the great improver of the thermometer was Fahren¬ 
heit, 2 a merchant of Dantzic, who, having failed in busi¬ 
ness, and being attached to chemical and mechanical pur¬ 
suits, was obliged to gain a livelihood by making and selling 
these instruments. Fahrenheit used both spirit of wine 
and quicksilver, and hermetically sealed the tube contain¬ 
ing the fluid ; he also greatly improved the method of gra¬ 
duation, by establishing two points as the extremes of his 
scale, and subdividing the intermediate portion into a giv¬ 
en number of degrees. 

The division of the thermometrick scale had occupied 
the attention of several learned and ingenious men ; but 
it was Fahrenheit who pointed out the most accurate 
means of accomplishing this purpose. The curious cir¬ 
cumstance of the water running from melted snow being 
always of the same temperature, appears first to have oc¬ 
curred to Giiricke of Magdeburgh, but was first applied 
to the graduation of thermometers by Sir Isaac Newton. 
Dr. Hooke had observed that the quicksilver in the tube 
of the thermometer, plunged into boiling-water, always rose 
to the same height; accordingly, if a mercurial thermome¬ 
ter be put into melting snow, and the point at which the 

1 Born at Arhusen in Jutland, in 1644,—died at Copenhagen 
in 1710. 

3 Bom at Dantzic in 1686,—died in 1724. 


SHOT. II.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


45 


fluid stands, marked upon the tube, and then transferred 
to boiling water, and that point also marked, and if the in¬ 
termediate space be subdivided into any number of equal 
degrees, 100 for instance, it follows that, provided proper 
precautions have been taken in selecting and filling the 
tube, every thermometer, so constructed, will indicate the 
same degree, when applied to bodies of the same tempe¬ 
rature. With regard to the boiling point, Fahrenheit ob¬ 
served it to differ under different degrees of atrnospherick 
pressure, and pointed out the necessity of fixing it at a 
mean barometrical altitude. He had also noticed, that a 
degree of cold much more intense than that of ice might 
be procured by a mixture of snow and salt; and conceiving 
this to be extreme cold, he commenced his scale from that 
point, which is 32° below the freezing of water. Accord¬ 
ingly, Fahrenheit’s scale commences at 0°, the temperature 
of his freezing mixture ; the freezing point of water is 
marked 32°, and the boiling point 212°; the space between 
the freezing and boiling of water being divided into 180°. 
The graduation of thermometers received its greatest im¬ 
provement in 1742, by Celsius of Sweden, who commenc¬ 
ed the scale at the freezing of water, and divided the space 
between it and the boiling point into 100°. This is 
the centigrade scale, now used in France. Reaumur’s 
scale, in which the point of congelation is marked 0°, 
and that of boiling-water 80°, is used in some parts 
of the European Continent; and in Russia the descending 
scale of Delisle is sometimes employed, in which the boil¬ 
ing point of water is 0°, the freezing 150°. These scales 
have each their merits and defects. In the event of inno¬ 
vation, the interval between the freezing and boiling of 
mercury, might be divided into 1000 equal parts; the for¬ 
mer being 40° below 0° of Fahrenheit, the latter about -|~ 
670°. The degrees would thus be sufficiently small to be 
expressed without fractions ; and the commencement of 


46 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SRCT. II. 


the scale, which is about the lowest natural temperature, 
would be so low, as to preclude the frequent necessity of 
expressing negative degrees. 1 

From this sketch of the history of the thermometer, 
it is obvious, that its operation depends upon the circum- 
stance of fluids diminishing in bulk by diminution of tem¬ 
perature, and the contrary; which is really the case with 
all fluids except water. This important fact was observ¬ 
ed by the Florentine Academicians in their early experi¬ 
ments, and it is among the most curious and interesting 
discoveries of that zealous and active association of expe¬ 
rimentalists. Having filled a large thermometer tube with 
water, they plunged it into a mixture of salt and snow. 
The water presently began to contract in bulk, and de¬ 
scend in the tube ; but, instead of continuing to do so, 
till it reached the freezing point, after a short time it com¬ 
menced expanding ; the expansion went on till a portion 
of the water froze, and was then very suddenly increas¬ 
ed. 3 

1 This proposal is suggested by Mr. Murray. System of Chem¬ 
istry , Vol. I. 

2 The following unaffected narrative of this celebrated ex¬ 
periment is very different from the usual verbose and pompous 
style of the philosophers of the period. 

“ Glia sapevamo per innanzi (e lo sa ognuno) che il freddo da 
principio opera in tutti i liquori restrignimento, e diminuzione 
di mole, e di cio non solamente n’avevamo la riprova ordinaria 
dell’ aquarzente de’ Termometri, ma n’avevamo fatta esperi- 
enza nell’ acqua, nell’ olio, nell’ argentovivo, ed in molt’ altri 
fluidi. Dali’ altro canto sapevamo ancora, che nel passaggio, 
che fa l’acqua dall’ esser semplicemente fredda al rimuoversi 
dalla sua fluidita, e ricever consistenza, e durezza coll’ ag- 
ghiacciamento non solo ritorna alia mole, ch’ ell’ aveva prima 
di raffreddarsi, ma trapassa ad una maggiore, mentre se le 
veggon rompere vasi di vetro, e di metal lo con tanta forza. 
Ma qual poi si fosse il periodo di queste varie alterazioni, che 
in essa opera il freddo, questo non sapevamo ancora, ne era 


SECT. II.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


47 


The temperature at which water thus begins to expand 
by cooling is 40° Fahrenheit, and water cooled down to 
32°, that is, 8° below 40°, occupies the same space as 
when heated to 8° above 40°; in other words, the density 
or specifick gravity of water is at its maximum at 40°. 

When in the year 1683 Dr. Croune repeated this ex¬ 
periment before the Royal Society, Hooke attributed the 
effect, not to any peculiarity in expansibility of water, 
but to a rapid and sudden contraction of the glass bulb, 
which would force the water upwards in the tube; 1 a con- 

possibile d’arrivarvi con agghiacciarla dentro a’ vasi opachi, 
come quei d’argento, d’ottone, e d’oro’ne’ quali s’era fin’ allora 
agghiacciata: Onde per non mancare di quella notizia, die 
parea esser l’anima di tutte quest’ esperienze, ricorremmo al 
cristallo, ed al vetro, sperando per la transparenza della mate¬ 
ria d’aver presto ad’ assicurarci come la cosa andasse, mentre 
si poteva a ciascun movimento, che fosse apparso nell’ acqua 
del collo, cavar subito la palla dal’ ghiaccio, e riconoscer in 
essa quali alteration! gli correspondessero. Ma la verita si 
e, che noi stentammo assai piu che non ci saremmo mai dati 
ad intendere, prima di poter rinvenire alcana cosa di certo 
intorno a’ periodi di questi accidenti. E per dime piii dis- 
tintamente, il successo e da sapere, che nella prima immer- 
sione, che facevamo della palla, subito, ch’ella toccava l’acqua 
del ghiaccio s’osservava nell’ acqua del collo un piccolo sol- 
levamento, ma assai veloce, dopo il quale con moto assai ordi- 
nato, e di mezzana velocita s’andava retirando verso la palla, 
finche arrivata a un certo grado non proseguiva pid oltre a 
discendere, ma si fermava quivi per qualche tempo, a giudizio 
degli occhi, offatto priva di movimento. Poi a poco a poco 
si vedea ricominciare a salire, ma con un moto tardissimo, e 
apparentemente equabile, dal quale senz’ alcun proporzionale 
acceleramento spiccava in un subito un furiosissimo salto, nel 
qual tempo era impossible tenele dietro coll’ occhio, scorrendo 
con quell’ impeto, per cosi dire, in istanti le decine e le decine 
de’ gradi.” Esperienze intorno al progresso degli artifiziali ag- 
ghiacciamcnti , c de ’ loro mirabili accidenti. Saggi di naturali 
esperienze fatte nell’ accademia Del Cimento.” Firenze, 
1691. 

1 The Histories of the Royal Society by Sprat and Birch, con¬ 
tain a curious body of experimental evidence on a great varie- 


48 


THIRD DISSERTATION, 


[SKCT. tl. 


elusion amply disproved by other forms of the experi¬ 
ment, especially by that suggested by Dr. Hope 1 of Edin¬ 
burgh, in which a freezing mixture was applied to the sur¬ 
face of water at 60° contained in a tall cylindrical glass jar. 
The water was cooled throughout to 40°, and then the sur¬ 
face sunk to 32°, and froze. But when the freezing mix- 

ty of philosophical subjects, and detail the opinions and ob¬ 
servations of many eminent persons upon the various researches 
that were carried on before that learned body. The business 
of the Society was formerly conducted upon a very different 
plan from that now r pursued, and much resembled the present 
proceedings of the Academy of Sciences of the Royal Insti¬ 
tute of France. 

The following is Dr. Birch’s memorandum relating to this 
experiment: 

February 6, 1683. 

A letter of Mr. Musgrave to Mr. Aston, dated at New Col¬ 
lege, Oxford, was read, containing, among other things, several 
experiments about freezing, as that two inches of water in a 
tube | inch diameter, expanded itself, upon freezing, 4 high¬ 
er; that a tube one inch diameter filled 6 inches, rose upon 
freezing, i of an inch; and that half a pint of water, upon freez¬ 
ing, lost in weight 3vj- 9*3- gr. viij. 

Dr. Croune said, that having weighed three ounces of water, 
he found it, after freeziug, to differ a scruple and a half. 

Sir Christopher Wren remarked, that if water were suddenly 
frozen, there would be less difference in weight. 

Dr. Croune said, that he observed water which he had put 
into a bolt-head, to rise higher before there was any thing of 
freezing in it. 

Mr. Hooke attributed the rising of the water in the neck of 
the bolt-head, to the shrinking of the glass. 

Dr. Croune said, that the glass had been long in the cold be¬ 
fore, and that the water rose immediately. 

Dr. Wallis proposed, that an empty glass might be cooled well 
in a freezing liquor, in order that it might have its contraction 
before the waiter be put into it. 

This was done immediately by Mr. Hunt, and the water be¬ 
ing put into a small bolt-head, rose about ## of an inch in the neck, 
though the air at that time w r as very warm. (Birch’s History 
of the Royal Society . Vol. IV. p. 253.) 

1 Edinburgh Transactions , Vol. VI. 


ISCT. II.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION* 


49 


ture was applied to the bottom of the jar, the water be* 
came cooled throughout to 32°. If the cold be applied 
to the centre of the vessel, as long as the water is above 
40°, the warmer part will always be at the top, but below 
40° the arrangement is reversed, and the warmer part be¬ 
ing then most dense, occupies the lower half of the vessel, 
and the colder portion floats upon it. 

The influence of this singular anomaly, which has thus 
been demonstrated by unanswerable experiments, is of 
great extent and importance. In most of the cases in 
which nature deviates from her usual established laws, 
philosophy has discovered happy consequences in her ab¬ 
erration ; and where such discovery has not been made, 
investigation should be upon the alert to trace the clue 
that is presented. 

If water were obedient to the same laws of refrigeration 
as other less universal liquids, such as spirit, oils, and 
quicksilver, it must be evident, that, during the winter’s 
cold, our rivers and lakes, instead of presenting a superfi¬ 
cial stratum of ice, would soon become solid throughout; 
the continuous influence of the summer’s sun would be re¬ 
quired to produce their fluidity, and the inhabitants of the 
waters would annually risk extermination. 

These effects are obviated by the peculiarity observed 
by the Academicians del Cimento. As the temperature 
of the earth is in winter always greater than that of the 
atmosphere, the cooling of large bodies of water must 
take place from above, by the contact of cold air and 
chilling blasts. The whole mass will thus be lowered to 
40°, after which, the water becoming specifically lighter 
as it becomes colder, remains upon the surface where it 
sinks to 32°, and is converted into a film of ice, which 
being a bad conductor of heat, thickens slowly, and affords 
further protection to the warmer fluid beneath. Those 
7 


50 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. II. 


who in winter’s cold accidentally fall through the ice, are sur- 
prised by the comparative warmth of the water below, 
and the aquatick animals that in summer sport upon the 
surface of their element, retire in winter to the more ge- 
nial retreats which nature has thus provided. 

In tracing the progress of Chemistry through its dark 
and early periods, the historian necessarily traverses a rug¬ 
ged and barren path ; his chief object must be to advance, 
and the shortest is generally the safest road. Reaching 
the age of Alchemy, the prospect, though improved, is 
not such as to demand a very deliberate survey : its fictions, 
however, like those of romantick chivalry, have some¬ 
what of reality for their basis, and by the mere increase 
of experimental inquiry, contributed essentially to the 
growth of chemical knowledge. As a science, its pro¬ 
gress was languid until the middle of the seventeenth cen¬ 
tury, when it began to shake off the lethargy in which it 
had been sunk, and was turned with eager curiosity to new 
and more useful objects. 

In the dross of the alchemical furnaces many scattered 
treasures were discovered, the value of w T hich was great¬ 
ly enhanced by arrangement and systematick combination. 
New views were thus opened to the Experimentalist; 
and authors, dismissing the florid exuberances and pom¬ 
pous affectation of their predecessors, cultivated an un¬ 
adorned and simple style, more becoming the dignity of 
scientifick narration. 

These circumstances contributed to confer a prosper¬ 
ous aspect on Chemical Philosophy at the commencement 
of the eighteenth century. It was applied to the arts, 
and to them it gave an unexpected and vigorous impulse. 
It was directed to the investigation of nature, and there 
it discovered new beauties. It found “ tongues in trees, 
books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good 
in every thing.” 


MCT. II!.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


51 


SECTION III. 

DISCOVERIES OP DR. BLACK, RELATING TO THE CAUSE OP CAUSTICITY 

IN EARTHS AND ALKALIES, AND TO CERTAIN PHENOMENA OF HEAT- 

The discoveries of Dr. Joseph Black form a most ini' 
portant epoch in the history of Chemical Philosophy ; 
they embrace two leading subjects,—llife one relating to 
the causticity of the earths and alkalies—the other to the 
operation of heat in changing the state of bodies ; in ren¬ 
dering solids liquid ; and converting liquids into elastick 
or aeriform fluids. 

Regarding these researches as isolated specimens of in¬ 
ductive philosophy, they have rarely been equalled: as 
influencing the progress of Chemistry, by disclosing the 
hidden cause of many very intricate phenomena, they have 
never been surpassed ; aud, by a happy combination of 
circumstances, we trace in them the distant but fertile 
source of those gigantick improvements of the arts, in 
which the perfection of the steam-engine is involved. 

Of a man whose scientifick character is thus pre-emi- 
ment, and in whose attainments his country has just reason 
to exult, history has recorded a brief but interesting me¬ 
morial. 1 

Dr. Joseph Black was sprung from a Scottish family, 
transplanted first to Ireland and then to France, where 
he was born in 1728, on the banks of the Garonne. When 
twelve years of age, he was sent for education to Belfast, 
and afterwards to the University of Glasgow, where he 
entered upon the study of physick, under the guidance of 
that bright ornament of medical science, Dr. William Cul¬ 
len. In 1750, he removed to Edinburgh ; four years af- 

1 Dr. Robison’s Preface to Black’s Lectures on the Elements of 
Chemistry, 


52 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[9ECT. III. 


terwards, he took the degree of Doctor of Physick ; and, in 
1756, published his Experiments on Magnesia, Quicklime, 
and some other alkaline substances, in the Physical and Lit¬ 
erary Essays. In the same year, Dr. Cullen having remov¬ 
ed to Edinburgh, Dr. Black returned to Glasgow to fill the 
Medical and Chemical chair of that University, where he 
was received with open arms both by the Classes and Pro¬ 
fessors. In 1764, he brought his ideas respecting the com¬ 
binations of heat with ponderable matter to perfection. 
Speculations upon this subject had occupied his mind dur¬ 
ing a considerable period, but the difficulties of the in¬ 
quiry, and the time necessarily consumed in other pro¬ 
fessional avocations, had considerably interfered with the 
pursuit. 

In 1766, he was appointed to the Chemical Chair of Ed¬ 
inburgh, an office which he filled with such talent, indus¬ 
try, and perseverance, as not only drew an immense con¬ 
course of hearers to bis class, but tended to confer upon 
chemistry a degree of popularity and importance, which 
has been greatly conducive to its promotion and extension. 
“ His discourse,” says his biographer, Professor Robison, 
a was so plain and perspicuous, his illustrations by experi¬ 
ment so apposite, that his sentiments on any subject never 
could be mistaken; and his instructions were so clear of 
all hypothesis or conjecture, that the hearer rested on his 
conclusions with a confidence scarcely exceeded in mat¬ 
ters of his own experience. ,,, In short, Dr. Black, in his 

1 Dr. Black’s character as a lecturer, is given by his friend 
Professor Robison in the following terms :—“ He endeavoured 
every year to render his courses more plain and familiar, and 
to illustrate them by a greater variety of examples in the way 
of experiments. No man could perform these more neatly and 
successfully. They were always ingeniously and judiciously 
contrived, clearly establishing the point in view, and never 
more than sufficed for this purpose. While he scorned the 


SECT. III.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


53 


professorial capacity, was entitled to every praise, and he 
contributed most essentially to the foundation and increase 
of the reputation which the University of Edinburgh has 
acquired and maintained. Nor was his private character 
at variance with his publick excellence; he was mild, amia¬ 
ble, and fond of conversation, whether serious or spor¬ 
tive ; and he was not above uniting to the highest philoso¬ 
phical attainments, most of the elegant accomplishments of 
life. In his advanced age he often expressed a hope that 
he might not linger in protracted sickness, on account of 
the distress which, in such cases, is suffered by attend¬ 
ing friends ; and his death, which happened in his 7lst 
year, in November 1799, is on this account the more re¬ 
markable. He was taking some milk and water, and hav¬ 
ing the cup in his hand, when the last stroke of his pulse 
was to be given, had set it upon his knees, and in this 
attitude expired without the smallest agitation. 

The writings of Black, though lamentably few, are mas¬ 
terpieces of scientifick composition. Newton was his 
model, and he was the first who transferred into chemis¬ 
try the severe system of inductive logick, which marks 
the productions of that great master of natural philosophy. 

quackery of a showman, the simplicity, neatness, and elegance 
with which they were performed, were truly admirable. In¬ 
deed, the simplex munditiis stamped every thing that he did. I 
think it was the unperceived operation of this impression that 
made Dr. Black’s lectures such a treat to all his scholars. They 
were not only instructed, but (they knew not how) delighted; 
and without any effort to please, but solely by the natural emana¬ 
tion of a gentle and elegant mind, co operating indeed with a 
most perspicuous exhibition of his sentiments, Dr. Black became 
a favourite lecturer, and many were induced, by the report of 
his students, to attend his courses, without having any particu¬ 
lar relish for chemical knowledge, but merely in order to be 
pleased. This, however, contributed greatly to the extending 
the know ledge of Chemistry, and it became a fashionable part 
of the accomplishments of a gentleman.” Preface , p. Ik 


54 


third dissertation. 


[Sect. ni. 


<e In no scientifick inquiries, since the date of the Princi - 
pia and Opticks , do we find so great a proportion of pure 
ratiocination, founded upon the description of common 
facts, but leading to the most unexpected and important 
results, as in the two grand systems of Black.” Averse 
to all hypothesis, and aware of the multitudinous facts 
upon which a theory that is to stand firm must be found¬ 
ed, Dr. Black was unwarrantably slow in the formal pub- 
lick disclosure of his admirable researches. His tenets 
were fully and freely delivered to his pupils ; but he very 
rarely intruded upon the publick as an author; and his 
splendid achievements in the philosophy of heat are chiefly 
developed in his posthumous works. This silence, aris¬ 
ing out of an over-cautious modesty which marked all his 
proceedings, was not favourable to the reputation of Dr. 
Black. Faulty and incomplete copies of his lectures 
were circulated among his friends and admirers, which af¬ 
terwards reached the hands of those who deserve another 
name, and by whom they were not very honourably em¬ 
ployed. 

The first researches of Dr. Black, which it will be ne¬ 
cessary to attend to, explain the cause of causticity in 
earths and alkalies. When chalk or limestone, which are 
mild insoluble tasteless substances, are heated to redness 
in the open fire, they are converted into quicklime, a body 
corrosive, soluble in water, and having an acrid flavour. 
Stahl, Macquer, 1 and Meyer, attributed this change to 

i Macquer was born at Paris in 1718, and died in 1784. He 
ranks among the most eminent scientifick Chemists of the early 
part of the eighteenth century; and though involved in the errours 
of the Phlogistick school, he has written with much good sense 
and perspicuity on a variety of chemical subjects. His most cele¬ 
brated works are, the Ekmens de Chimie Theorique , Paris, 1749; 
and Elemens de Chimie Pratique , Paris, 1751. He also published 


SECT. III.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


55 


some substance absorbed from the fire,—to an acrid acid,* 
—to phlogiston, and other creatures of the imagination. 
Dr. Black’s mind was turned to this subject in consequence 
of the discovery of magnesia. This substance made its 
first appearance as an Arcanum in Italy, in 1707. Valen¬ 
tine showed that it might be obtained from the mother-li¬ 
quor of nitre, but it was supposed to be lime, until Hoff¬ 
man, in 1720, pointed out several peculiarities by which 
it is distinguished from that earth. Hoffman prepared 
magnesia from bittern, or the saline liquor which remains 
after the separation of common salt from sea water; to this 
he added an alkali which precipitated the earth. 2 The 

a Chemical Dictionary. The following is all his information 
respecting the property possessed by quicklime of rendering the 
alkalies caustick. After describing the process, he observes, “ Le 
but de cette operation, est de reunir avec le set alcali fixe ce que 

la chaux a de salin et d’acre.”-“ On le combine avec la par- 

tie la plus acre, la plus subtile, et la plus saline de la chaux.” 

-“Nous n’entreprendrons point ici d’expliquer pourquoi le 

sel alcali, que 1’on combine avec la chaux, acquiert une si gran¬ 
de causticite. Cette question nous paroit une des plus delicates 
et des plus difficiles a r'tsoudre que nous offre la Chimie. Elle tient 
a ceile des proprietes alcalines de la chaux, et on ne peut gueres 
esperer de la resoudre, que quand on aura acquis sur la nature de 
cette substance, beaucoup plus de lumieres que nous n*en avons 
a present.” Elemcns de Chimie Pratique , pp. 179. 182. 

1 J. F. Meyers, Chemische versuche zur ndhern erkenntniss des 
ungeloschten /calks ; der elastischen und electrischen Materie, des al¬ 
ley reinsten feuerwesens , und der urspiiing lichen allgemeinem saurc . 
Hannover, 1764. In this dissertation, though published sub¬ 
sequently to Black’s essay, the causticity of the alkalies and 
lime is referred to the absorption of a principle which the author 
calls Causticum, or Acidum pingtie. Between the years 1760, 
and 1772, a great variety of dissertations were published in 
Germany upon this question, some in support of Black’s doc¬ 
trine, others in favour of Meyer’s hypothetical absurdities. See 
Gren’s Systcmaiisches Handbuch der Gcsammten Chcmie . Halle, 
1794. § 437. 

8 Observ. Phys . Chem. 1722. 



56 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


fsECT. MI, 


substance which thus exists in bittern, is a compound of 
magnesia and sulphurick acid. It was first obtained from 
certain mineral springs in the neighbourhood of Epsom in 
Surry, and thence called Epsom salt, but was sold at a very 
high price, in consequence of the small quantities so pro¬ 
cured, until the manufacturers in the neighbourhood of 
Lymington obtained it from sea water; it was then largely 
exported to the Continent under Ihe name of English salt. 

Epsom salt was indeed long confounded with Glauber’s 
salt, and a fraud of the manufacturers here, and in Germa¬ 
ny, tended to keep up the confusion ; for at that period 
Glauber’s salt was rare in England, and large crystals of 
Epsom salt were sold under that name ; but in Germany, 
where Epsom salt was not common, Glauber’s salt, in 
small crystals, was vended as English or Epsom salt. Pott 
of Berlin, and Du Hamel of Paris, were led into a comedy 
of errours in consequence of mistaking the nature of these 
bodies. 

Dr. Black found that, when magnesia was prepared by 
precipitating a solution of Epsom salt by a mild alkali, 
that it effervesced with acids; but that when heated to 
redness, it lost weight, and then dissolved without effer¬ 
vescence. This fact, which also holds good in respect to 
lime, induced him to believe that, instead of gaining any 

Hoffman was the most celebrated Chemical Physician of the 
age. He was born at Halle in Saxony, in 1660, and died in 
1742. His writings, which are voluminous, are also valuable. 
In 1749, they were eked out by the Denevese Booksellers into 
nine folio volumes. The following are his leading Essays in 
Chemistry : 

Dissertiitioncs dc Generations Solium,—Dc Natura Nitri,—Dc 
Cinnabars Anlimonii,—Ds Mirabili Sulphuris Antimonii Jixati 
ejjicacia,—D Mercurio et Mcdicamentis MercuriaUbus. Qbscr 
vationian Physico'Chemicarum Collectio. Libri iii. 


sscr. in.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


57 


thing in the fire, something was lost by these earths. He, 
therefore, distilled some magnesia in a retort, but found, 
that although it lost weight as before, nothing but a rela¬ 
tively small quantity of water was found in the receiver. 
The experiments of Dr. Hales now rushed into his mind, 
and it occurred to him, that some gaseous or aeriform 
body had escaped from the earth, and that this was the 
cause of its effervescing with acids,—a circumstance pre¬ 
viously ascribed to the collision of the acid and earthly 
particles. He therefore put some magnesia, not calcined, 
into a bottle, with a bent tube attached to it; and thus, 
during the action of the acid, obtained a large quantity of 
an elastick fluid, in a vessel inverted in water ; he found, 
too, that chalk, and common alkali, yielded the same kind 
of air. The air thus existing in these substances Dr. 
Black called fixed air; and he proved it to be the cause 
of mildness in earths and alkalies. If lime be added to a 
mild alkali, the lime absorbs its fixed air, and renders it 
caustick,—an effect formerly attributed to the transfer of 
the fiery particles of the lime. 

In the year 1750, Venel observed that Selters, and 
other sparkling waters, when placed under the receiver of 
an air-pump, gave out a large quantity of air, and became 
flat and insipid, and he imitated them by dissolving com¬ 
mon soda in water, and adding muriatick acid, which pro¬ 
duced an effervescence and gave it briskness. 1 These 
experiments were a little antecedent to Dr. Black’s pub¬ 
lication, but they by no means anticipated his discover- 

1 “En 1750, Venel, Professeur de Chimie a Montpellier, re- 
prit le fil de ses experiences en arretant dans Teau le fluide 
degage des effervescences, et en imitant ainsi, par sa dissolution 
artificielle, les eaux minerales acidules; mais il fit encore tous 
ses efforts pour prouvcr qnc c'etoit de Pair.” Fourcroy, His- 
foire, p. 28. 


58 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[iect. In; 


ies. 1 In 1T64 the conclusions«of Black were verified, and 
his views extended, by Dr. Macbride of Dublin, who 
pointed out several new properties of fixed air, and de¬ 
monstrated its existence in the atmosphere ; for lime ex¬ 
posed to air gradually loses its causticity, and becomes 
effervescent. The operation of quick-lime as a manure 
depends upon its power of rendering the inert vegetable 
matter of the soil soluble, and fit for the nourishment of 
young plants; an effect which it does not produce when 
combined with fixed air, or in the state of chalk: hence 
the lime should be spread quickly over the land, and not 
left in heaps exposed to the air, by which, as Dr. Mac- 
bride has shown, it is rendered mild, and of comparatively 
small effect. 2 

1 Dr. Brownrigg of Whitehaven threw out some curious hints 
respecting fixed air, or, as it is now called, carbonick acid, as 
early as 1765. In a communication to the Royal Society, 
printed that year in their Transactions , he remarks, “ that a 
more intimate acquaintance with those noxious airs in mines, 
called (lamps, might lead to the discovery of that subtile princi¬ 
ple of mineral waters, known by the name of their spirit; that 
the mephitick exhalations termed the Choak-damp, he had found 
to be a fluid permanently elastick; and, from various experi¬ 
ments he had reason to conclude, that it entered the composi¬ 
tion of the waters of Pyrmont, Spa, and others, imparting to 
them that pungent taste, from which they were denominated 
acidulae , and likewise that volatile principle on which their 
virtues chiefly depend.” 

BIr. Lane was the first who ascertained the solubility of iron 
in Avater, impregnated with fixed air. Phil. Trans. 1769. “ By 

this means,” says Sir John Pringle in his discourse on the dif¬ 
ferent kinds of Air, delivered at the anniversary meeting of the 
Royal Society, November 30, 1773, “the nature of the rnetal- 
lick principle in mineral waters was clearly explained, and the 
whole analysis of those celebrated fountains, so often attempted 
by Chemists and others, and still eluding their laboured re¬ 
searches, was thus, in the most simple manner, brought to 
light.” 

2 Macbride’s Experimental Essays , 1764. The merit of this 
performance induced the University of Glasgow to bestow the 
degree of Doctor of Physick on the author. 


cp.ct, m.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


59 


Such are the principal features of Dr. Black’s researches 
respecting the cause of mildness and causticity in earthy 
and alkaline substances. They constitute an important 
body of chemical evidence, and are established upon the 
satisfactory basis of analytick and synthetick proofs. 

I now turn to his more elaborate investigation into the 
effects of heat; to inquiries so momentous in their in¬ 
fluence upon the advancement of experimental philosophy, 
so repiete with difficulties, and so masterly in their execu¬ 
tion, as to raise them to the highest efforts of the human 
mind. I have deemed a rapid glance at the discovery of 
fixed air sufficient for our present purpose ; for occasions 
will afterwards offer of descanting more largely upon its 
nature and properties ; but the investigation now before us, 
is that from which the towering and durable greatness of 
Black’s name has been principally derived ; and it was 
begun, continued, and completed, by the labour of his own 
hands. 

In speaking of the graduation of thermometers, it was 
mentioned, that if snow or ice be brought into a warm at¬ 
mosphere, and suffered to thaw slowly, the water which 
runs from it is always at one temperature, that of 32° of 
Fahrenheit’s scale. This and similar cases seem to have 
occupied the early thoughts of our philosopher ; for his 
biographer informs us, that, in the oldest parcels of his 
notes, he found queries relating to this subject. How 
does it happen that, although heat is constantly flowing 
from surrounding bodies to the ice, its temperature is not 
increased ? Water at 32°. when brought into a room at 
60°. goes on increasing in temperature till it attains that of 

Dr. Macbride introduced some important improvements into 
the art of Tanning, and was the first who employed lime 
water in the preparatory operations of that process. He was 
born in the county of Antrim in 1726, and died in 1773. 


60 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. m. 


the circumambient air; but the ice, though exposed to ex¬ 
actly similar sources of heat, remains at 32°. Why, when 
water is cooled several degrees below its freezing point, 
does its temperature suddenly rise to that point, the instant 
that it congeals? or why is it, that, when a vessel of water 
i3 put upon the fire, a thermometer plunged into it con¬ 
tinues to indicate increase of heat until it rises to 212°; 
and the water then boils, but does not become hotter, al¬ 
though it remains upon the fire, and has all its former op¬ 
portunities of acquiring heat ? Such were the queries 
which Dr. Black has most happily resolved. 

In regard to the liquefaction of ice, he has demonstrat¬ 
ed that, when solids pass into the liquid state, the change 
is always accompanied with the absorption of heat, which 
is concealed or becomes latent in the liquid, and is not in¬ 
dicated by the thermometer, which instrument, therefore, 
is no measure of the absolute quantity of heat. A variety 
of interesting and curious experiments were undertaken 
with a view to ascertain the quantity of thermometrick heat, 
which thus becomes latent during the conversion of ice 
into water. A pound of snow at 32° was mixed with a 
pound of water at 172®; the snow was melted, and the 
temperature of the mixture was only 32°; so that here 
140° thermometrick heat had disappeared ; their effect 
being, not to raise the temperature of the snow, but to 
convert it into water. We should say, therefore, from 
this experiment, that usrater at 32° is a compound of ice, 
and 140° of heat as indicated by the thermometer. If wa¬ 
ter, at the temperature of 32°, be mixed with an equal 
weight of warm water, suppose at 200°, the resulting tem¬ 
perature will be the mean ; 232 -r- 2 = 116 ; but if we use 
ice, the temperature will not be the mean, for 140° of heat 
must be substracted from the warm water, which heat is 
consumed in liquefying the ice; the result, therefore, will 


SECT. III.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


61 


be the same as if water at 3*2° and 60° were mixed, giving 
a mean of only 45°. 

These experiments at once demonstrated the cause of 
many facts respecting the production of heat and cold, 
which, though long known, remained without any plausible 
explanation. 

When solids become fluids, the production of cold is 
more or less evident, according to the rapidity of the 
change. Those saline bodies, for instance, which are 
very rapidly soluble in water, generate during their solu¬ 
tion a considerable intensity of cold, for to become fluid 
they must absorb heat. When snow and salt are suddenly 
blended, there is an instant liquefaction, and the tempera¬ 
ture of the substances being already low, a degree of cold 
equal to 0° of Fahrenheit is obtained The production of 
cold by mixing snow and muriate of lime, a very soluble 
salt, is—40° Fahrenheit, and sufficient to freeze quick¬ 
silver even in a comparatively warm atmosphere. A mix¬ 
ture of 5 parts of sal ammoniack in powder, and 5 parts of 
nitre with 16 of water, sink the thermometer from 50° to 
10°. Equal parts of nitrate of ammonia, and water, pro¬ 
duce a more intense cold, and by a clever successive ap¬ 
plication of these freezing mixtures, the intense degree of 
cold of—91° Fahrenheit has been artificially exhibited. 
This is 123° below the freezing of water, and 40° the great¬ 
est natural cold hitherto observed, which was at Hud¬ 
son’s Bay, where the spirit thermometer has been seen 
at 50°. 

There are many counter illustrations of this doctrine of 
latent heat; in which heat is evolved during the conver¬ 
sion of liquids into solids. If oil of vitriol be poured upon 
magnesia, there is a sudden solidification of the acid by 
its union with the earth, and a considerable rise of tem¬ 
perature ensues. Water poured upon quicklime produces 


62 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SKCT. HI 


a similar phenomenon; and when water at perfect rest is 
exposed in a covered vessel to an intensely cold atmos¬ 
phere, its temperature may be reduced to many degrees 
below its freezing point: A slight agitation causes it sud¬ 
denly to become ice, and at that instant the temperature 
rises to 32°. A somewhat similar case is the sudden crys¬ 
tallization of saline solutions, during which their latent 
heat becomes sensible to the feeling, and is indicated by 
the thermometer. 

In Dr. Black’s theory of latent heat, it is assumed that 
heat is matter; that it is a substance of excessive tenuity, 
existing in variable proportions in bodies ; that when in a 
free state, it affects our senses, and the thermometer, but 
that it occasionally enters into union with other substances, 
or is separated from them, consistent with the usual laws 
of chemical attraction. Thus, in fluids, it is combined 
or latent, but when they are converted into solids, it is 
separated in a free or sensible slate. The other view of 
the question represents heat as the result of a vibrating 
motion among the particles of bodies; the vibrations be¬ 
ing most rapid and extensive in the hottest bodies. In 
fluids the vibrations are accompanied by a motion of the 
particles round their own axes ; and when solids pass into 
the fluid state, the vibratory motion or temperature is in 
part lost, by the communication of the rotatory motion to 
the particles. Each of these hypotheses has had its able 
defenders and advocates; the ideas of Newton seem to 
have been favourable to the latter, and many facts may be 
adduced in its support. The strongest are the imponde¬ 
rability of heat, and its continuous extrication by fric¬ 
tion. That we discover no increase of weight in a heated 
body may be attributed to the insufficiency of our in¬ 
struments, but its unlimited production in a variety of 


sect. in.J THIRD DISSERTATION. 63 

cases, though consonant with the hypothesis of vibration, 
ill agrees with that of a specifick form of matter. 

If a soft iron nail be beaten upon the anvil, it becomes 
hot and brittle, and it cannot again be rendered malleable 
till it has been reseftened by exposure to the fire. By 
those who favour the notion of a matter of heat, this has 
been called an experimentum crucis . The matter of heat, 
say they, is squeezed out of the nail, as water out of a 
sponge, but it is reabsorbed in the fire. In this experi¬ 
ment, however, it must be recollected, that the mechani¬ 
cal arrangement of the particles of the iron is considerably 
altered ; it is rendered very brittle ; and hence, perhaps, 
its insusceptibility of becoming again hot, till restored to 
its former state or texture by the expansive power of fire. 

It was not until the publication of the researches which 
have just been considered, that a variety of curious cir¬ 
cumstances concerning congelation were understood. The 
gradual progress in the freezing of large bodies of water 
has been shown to depend in some measure upon the re¬ 
markable anomaly respecting its maximum of density ; 
but it is also materially connected with the phenomena of 
latent heat ; for water, before it can become ice, must 
part with a quantity of heat, which if suddenly evolved, 
would raise the thermometer M0°. It must also be ob¬ 
vious, that the process of thawing suffers a similar retarda- 
dation, for ice requires for its conversion into water, the 
absorption of 140°. of sensible heat. 

Thus we see that sudden congelation and sudden lique¬ 
faction are alike prevented; that the process must be 
gradual, and consequently productive of none of those 
evils which would result from a more rapid change. 

One of the great advantages of irrigation, or meadow 
watering, is also explained by a reference to these princi¬ 
ples. In an irrigated meadow, the surface of the water 


64 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SHOT. Ilf. 


may be frozen ; but as water at 40° is heavier than at 32°, 
the former will be its temperature in contact with the grass ; 
and it is a temperature perfectly congenial to the functions 
of vegetable life. Sir Humphrey Davy examined the 
temperature in a water meadow near Hungerford, in Berk¬ 
shire, by a very delicate thermometer. The temperature 
of the air, at seven in the morning, was 29°. The water 
was frozen above the grass; the temperature of the soil 
at the roots of the grass was 43°. Thus, by the peculiari¬ 
ty in the refrigeration of water, by the defence afforded 
by the stratum of ice, and by the laws of congelation, the 
vegetables are not merely protected from the effects of 
an intensely cold atmosphere, but likewise from the inju¬ 
rious influence of sudden changes of temperature. 

Congelation is to surrounding bodies a source of heat, 
and there is no inconsiderable mitigation of the extreme 
cold of air wafted over large bodies of water, by the trans¬ 
fer of latent to sensible heat, which must occur before they 
can freeze. 

The theory of freezing mixtures has led to considerable 
improvements of their applications, and many new and 
curious discoveries have resulted in pursuing this inqui¬ 
ry. Indeed whatever tends to disclose the laws of nature, 
cannot ultimately fail of subjecting her more or less to 
the uses of life, and of manifesting more and more the wis¬ 
dom of the creator. 

Having established the above facts respecting the cause 
of fluidity, Dr. Black proceeded to the second part of his 
inquiry, relating to vaporisation, and pursued it with the 
same abilities and success. 1 Finding the thermometer to 

1 “ When we heat a large quantity of a fluid in a vessel, in 
the ordinary manner, by setting it on a fire, we have an opportu¬ 
nity of observing some other phenomena which are very in- 


9BCT. in.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


65 


remain stationary at 212° in boiling water, he conceived 
the process of ebullition to be in some respects analogous 
to that of liquefaction, and that the heat which did not 
raise the temperature of the water, entered into union with 
it, and became latent in the steam. If this were the case, 
it should be re-evolyed during the condensation of steam ; 
and thus a method was devised of ascertaining its therrno- 
metrick quantity. Dr. Blacks experiments on this sub- 
ject were very numerous. I shall allude to such as put 

structive. The fluid is gradually heated, and at last attains 
that temperature which it cannot pass without putting on the 
form of vapour. In these circumstances, we always observe, 
that it is thrown into the violent agitation which we call boil¬ 
ing. This agitation continues as long as we throw in more 
heat, or any of the fluid remains, and its violence is proportion¬ 
al to the celerity with which the heat is supplied. 

“Another peculiarity attends this boiling of fluids, which, 
when first observed, was thought very surprising. However 
long and violently we boil a fluid, we cannot make it in the 
least hotter than when it began to boil. The thermometer al¬ 
ways points at the same degree, namely, the vaporifick point 
of that fluid. Hence the vaporifick point of fluids is often call¬ 
ed their Boiling point. 

“ When these facts and appearances were first observed, they 
seemed surprising, and different opinions were formed with re¬ 
spect to the causes upon which they depend. Some thought 
that this agitation was occasioned by that part of the heat, which 
was more than the water was capable of receiving, and which 
forced its way through, so as to occasion the agitation of boil¬ 
ing ; others, again, imagined, that the agitation proceeded from 
air, which w r ater is known to contain, and which is now expelled 
by the heat. Neither of these accounts, however, is just or 
satisfactory; the first is repugnant to all our experience in 
regard to heat: we have never observed it in the form of an 
expansive fluid like air: it pervades all bodies, and cannot be 
confined by any vessel, or any sort of matter; whereas, the 
elastick matter of boiling water, can be confined by external 
pressure, as is evident in the experiments made with Papin’s 
digester.” 

This quotation from Black’s Lectures, (Vol. I. p. 153,) is in¬ 
serted to show the siate of the argument respecting the pheno¬ 
mena of ebullition previous to his researches. 

9 


66 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SECT. Ilf# 


the phenomenon in the clearest light, and are perfectly 
unconnected with hypothesis. 

He noted the time consumed for raising a certain quanti¬ 
ty of water to its boiling point, and then kept up the same 
heat till the whole was evaporated, and marked the time 
consumed by the process. It was thus easily computed 
what the temperature would have been, supposing the rise 
to have gone on above *212° in the same ratio as below it. 
The water was originally at 50°; it boiled in four minutes, 
and in twenty minutes was all evaporated. In four minutes, 
therefore, it had gained 162° for 50°-fl62=212 ; and in 
twenty minutes would have gained 162x5 = 810°; which 
may, therefore, be considered as the equivalent thermome- 
trick expression of the latent heat of the steam. Another 
good illustration of the absorption of heat in the production 
of steam, is furnished by heating water under compression. 
It may then be raised many degrees above its ordinary boil¬ 
ing point; but, on removing the pressure, a portion of steam 
rushes out, and the remaining water has its temperature 
lowered to 212 0 . 1 

Hence we learn, that the conversion of water into vapour 
is attended with a great loss of heat to the surrounding 
bodies ; and although the perceptible temperature of water 
and steam are identical, the latter contains heat equivalent 
to between 800 and 900° of perceptible or thermometrick 
temperature. When steam is reconverted into water, this 
large quantity of heat is again given out; and hence a small 
portion of steam is capable of heating a large body of water 
to its boiling point. The knowledge of this fact is of great 
economical importance ; and in breweries and other manu¬ 
factories, where large bodies of water are required to be 

1 See Black’s Experiments, which prove the absorption of heat 
Lectures , Vot I. p. 157, &c. 


sacr. hi.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


67 


boiled, the steam, instead of being suffered, as formerly, to 
pass off into the air, is conveyed by pipes into other vessels of 
water, which it heats during its condensation. In the same 
way, rooms and houses are warmed by the heat evolved dur¬ 
ing the condensation of steam, in iron or copper tubes 
which traverse the building, and the method is at once safe 
and effectual. 

It is in consequence of the latent heat of steam, that, in 
the process of distillation, we are obliged to present so large 
a surface for condensation ; and it is not difficult, by the 
help of a still, to calculate the latent heat of steam. If, 
for instance, one hundred gallons of water at 50° be mixed 
with one gallon at 21*2°, the temperature of the water will 
be raised above I* 0 . If, by the common still-tub, one gallon 
of water be condensed from the state of steam by one hun¬ 
dred gallons of wafer at 50°, in that case the water will be 
raised 11°, which is about 9 h° more than in the former in¬ 
stance. Hence it appears, that the heat imparted to a hun¬ 
dred gallons of cold water by eight pounds of steam, would, 
if it could be condensed into one gallon of water, raise it to 
950°. 

The average of the various experiments, which have 
been made on this subject, warrants us in placing the la¬ 
tent heat of steam between 900° and 1000°. 

These facts demonstrate that the condensation of vapour 
is always a heating process, and that its formation must 
equally be attended with the production of cold. 

1 About the year 1774, it was observed by Dr. Cullen, 
that a thermometer moistened with spirit of wine or ether, 

1 “ The Chemistry of Stahl, as it was cultivated in Germany, 
and France, and other countries of Europe, scarcely aspired be¬ 
yond the bounds within which it had been circumscribed by its 
original founder. A few important facts, indeed, were added, but 
they were either connected with medical preparations, or attract¬ 
ed attention solely as objects of curiosity. The great and tempt¬ 
ing field of Philosophical Chemistry lay unexplored, when itwa# 


68 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. III. 


sinks many degrees during the evaporation of those fluids ; 
with others, the thermometer may be made to fall from 60° 
to0°. The cause of this is sufficiently explained by Dr. 
Black’s theory; the ether and spirit readily pass into va¬ 
pour, which requires a certain quantity of heat for its pro¬ 
duction ; this is taken from the bodies it happens to be in 
contact with, as from the thermometer or the hand ; hence 
the cold perceived when these fluids are applied to the 
body, and the advantage which results from their applica¬ 
tion in cases of burns, and inflammations. These circum¬ 
stances led Dr. Cullen to accelerate the evaporation of these 
fluids, by exposing them under the receiver of the air-pump ; 
by placing a flask half full of ether in a tumbler of water, 
it was found that, during the process of exhaustion, the eva¬ 
poration was so rapid from the ether in the flask, as to con¬ 
vert the surrounding water into ice. 1 

entered upon with ardour by Dr. Cullen, who first perceived its 
value, and whose genius and industry, had they not been turned 
into another channel, would, in all probability, have been crown¬ 
ed with the richest discoveries. But though Dr. Cullen soon 
abandoned his chemical pursuits for those of medicine, he was 
fortunate enough to have initiated into the science, a man whose 
discoveries formed an era in chemistry, and who first struck out 
a new and brilliant path, which was afterwards fully laid open, 
and traversed with so much eclat by the British philosophers who 
followed his career. This fortunate pupil of Dr. Cullen, was Dr. 
Joseph Black.” Thompson, History of the Royal Society , p. 468. 

Dr. Cullen’s fame as a promoter of chemistry has been lost in 
his greater celebrity as a teacher of medicine. “ Chemistry,” 
says his biographer, Dr. Anderson, “ which was, before his time, 
a most disgusting pursuit, was, by him, rendered a study so pleas¬ 
ing, so easy, and so attractive, that it is now pursued by numbers 
as an agreeable recreation, who, but for the lights that were thrown 
upon it by Cullen and his pupils, would never have thought of 
engaging in it at all.” 

Cullen was born in Lanarkshire, in 1712, and died at Edin- 
burgh in 1790. 

1 Dr. Cullen’s paper is published in the Physical and Literary 
Essays and Observations , Edinburgh, 1756. Vol. II, it con- 


r 


SECT. III.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


69 


This part of the philosophy of heat, regarded in its con¬ 
nexion with the phenomena of nature, opens pleasing views 
of her order and economy. In the constant evaporation 
from the earth’s surface, from rivers, lakes, and the sea, we 
discern an unfailing cause of equalization of heat ; the va¬ 
pour thus formed, ascending to colder regions, there be¬ 
comes a source of increase of temperature, and, re-assum¬ 
ing fluidity, is thrown upon the earth in fertilizing showers, 
or forming torrents among the mountains, and rivers in the 
valleys, is returned to the parent ocean, and again becomes 
active in a similar cycle of changes. 

But besides these obvious and complete changes in the 
state of matter connected with the evolution or absorption 
of heat, there are others in which similar alteration of tem¬ 
perature is observed, without a positive change of form. 

tains the details of many interesting experiments upon the pro¬ 
duction of cold, and he considers the power of fluids in this re¬ 
spect, as nearly according to the degree of volatility in each. 
“ If to this,” says he, “ we join the consideration that the cold is 
made greater by whatever hastens the evaporation, and particu¬ 
larly that the sinking of the thermometer is greater, as the air in 
which the experiment is made is warmer, if dry at the same time, 
I think, we may now conclude, that the cold produced is the effect 
of evaporation .” 

A very curious and ingenious method of accelerating the evapo¬ 
ration of w r ater, so as to produce a freezing temperature, has late¬ 
ly been devised by Professor Leslie. If we place a small basin 
of water under the receiver of the air-pump, its temperature will 
sink a few degrees during exhaustion. If a large surface of 
oil of vitriol be at the same time included in the exhausted re¬ 
ceiver, the vapour of the water is rapidly absorbed by that fluid, 
the perfection of the vacuum is thus maintained, the production 
of vapour is extremely rapid, and the quantity of heat absorbed 
for its formation so considerable, as to allow of the conversion of 
the remaining water into ice. Other absorbents, such as dry clay, 
oatmeal, &c. may be substituted for the acid. The operation of 
wine and water coolers, and all cases in which diminution of tem¬ 
perature results from evaporation, are admirably explained upon 
Or. Black’s Theory of Latent Heat. 


70 


THIRD DISSERTATION* 


[sect. Ill, 


Whenever the density of a body, whether solid, liquid, or 
aeriform, is varied, there is an equivalent variation in its la¬ 
tent heat. The specific gravity of soft iron is increased by 
hammering, and heat is evolved during the operation. A 
piece of Indian rubber, suddenly extended, becomes warm. 
If water be mixed with oil of vitriol, the density of the 
water is increased, and there is a very considerable aug¬ 
mentation of temperature. If air be suddenly compressed, 
it retains its elastick state, but becomes violently heated ; on 
the other hand, if air be quickly rarified, there is an equiva¬ 
lent reduction in its temperature. In these cases, bodies 
are said to change their capacities for heat ; increase of 
density is attended with a diminution of capacity for heat; 
and diminution of density with an increased capacity. The 
phenomena thus presented are such as the doctrine of la* 
tent heat would lead us to expect. When a fluid is con¬ 
verted into a solid, there is a copious evolution of heat ; 
when a fluid approximates to a solid state, or where its den¬ 
sity is increased, we might expect that heat would also be 
evolved. 1 

The last train of investigation, in regard to heat, which 
occupied Dr. Black’s thoughts, related to the different quan¬ 
tities of heat contained in different substances of the same 
temperature, without relation to change of density or state. 
A reference to an experiment will, perhaps, render this 
point more intelligible. If, for instance, a given quantity 
of boiling water, surrounded with ice, in sinking from 212° 
to 32° melts one pound of ice, and if the same quantity of 
olive oil, in passing from the same to the same temperature 
melts only half a pound of ice, we should conclude, that, 

1 The sinking of a thermometer suspended in the receiver of the 
air pump, during exhaustion, and its subsequent rise upon the 
readmission of air, are noticed by Dr. Cullen in the paper just 
quoted. 


sacr. hi.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


71 


although the thermometrick temperature of the two fluids is 
similar, the actual quantity of heat contained in the water, 
and ascertainable by its effects upon the ice, is twice that 
contained in the oil. To signify the quantity of heat thus 
contained in different bodies of the same temperature, the 
term specijick heat has been employed—we thus should 
state, from the result of the experiment alluded to, the spe- 
cifick heat of water to be *2, that of the olive oil 1. Irvine, 
Crawfurd, Wilcke, Lavoisier, and several eminent Experi¬ 
mentalists of the present day, have engaged themselves in 
researches on this subject, but the inquiry originated with 
Dr. Black, in the year 1762. 

In these limited observations upon the discoveries of 
Black, I hope to have rendered myself intelligible upon 
those main points of his investigations, which constitute the 
foundation of some of the most important and refined doc¬ 
trines of chemical science. The distinct object of this dis¬ 
course being to record the march of chemical discovery, and 
not to unfold the principles of the science, it would be un¬ 
wise to indulge in more extended incursions upon this fertile 
ground, or to trace the great trunk of his researches to its 
extreme ramifications. But a partial glance at the facts dis¬ 
closed will show even a superficial observer, the obligations 
we are under to the discoveries of this eminently modest 
and unassuming Philosopher. Of many of the most intri¬ 
cate phenomena of nature, they furnished new, easy, and 
luminous explanations ; and to the arts they were of un¬ 
paralleled benefit ; for, by developing their connexion, not 
with the shadows merely, but with the depths of science, a 
new road was opened to their improvement and perfection. 

Among the learned lookers-on of this period we discern 
many who, with independent and liberal minds, loved and 
patronized science for its own sake, and they were pleased 
at its rapid progress under the auspicious guidance of 


72 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


(sect. III. 


Black. Others, actuated by motives illiberal and inte¬ 
rested, countenanced sciences solely upon the selfish prin¬ 
ciple of gain ; the puerile and short-sighted questions of 
cui bono was constantly on their lips; but even they have 
been silenced by the application of Black’s discoveries. 1 , 

1 This may be the proper place to show in what way th® 
views of Dr. Black’s Theory of Latent Heat are connected with 
the improvements of the steam-engine—a subject upon which 
I must necessarily be brief, as only in part belonging to the ob¬ 
ject of this discourse. The Marquis of Worcester is commonly 
regarded as the inventor of the steam engine, but his claims 
are not well authenticated. It is true, that, among the Utopian 
schemes to be found in his Ceuturj^ of Inventions, there is a 
dark description of a method of raising water by steam; but 
we can scarcely see how this was effected, nor are there any 
data recorded of the success of the contrivance. Be this as it 
may, he who barely and obscurely hints the possibility of an 
undertaking cannot be regarded as forestalling him who success¬ 
fully carries it into execution; and the first person, who, upon 
decided evidence, constructed an engine for raising water by the 
alternate force and condensation of steam, was Captain Savary, 
—who also published an account of his invention in a small 
tract called the Miner's Friend. To enter into a description of 
this instrument would be irrelative to my present purpose; I 
therefore pass on to that of Newcomen, who, in 1705, obtained 
a patent for an improved steam engine. It consisted of a boiler 
having a cylinder placed upon it, in which was a solid plunger 
connected by its rod with a beam and lifting pump. The 
plunger was elevated by the elastick force of steam admitted 
from the boiler. The steam-cock being closed, a small stream 
of cold water was suffered to run into the cylinder, by which 
the steam was condensed; the pressure of the atmosphere then 
acting upon the surface of the plunger, forced it to the bottom 
of the cylinder, whence it was again raised by the readmission 
of steam, and so on. In 1717, Mr. Henry Beighton became an 
improver of the steam-engine; he was probably the first who 
caused the steam-cock to be opened and shut by the machine¬ 
ry, for a man was obliged to attend Newcomen’s engine for 
this express purpose. A few other improvements were made by 
different persons, but they did not affect the general action of 
the engine ; the steam was alternately admitted into, and con¬ 
densed in the main cylinder; and although defects in its pow¬ 
er had been noticed, their cause was unknown until 1765, 


net. IV.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION, 


SECTION IV. 

RESEARCHES RELATING TO THE COMPOSITION OF ATMOSPHERICK AIR, 
-EXPERIMENTS OF RUTHERFORD AND OF PRIESTLEY. 

Of the various discoveries, which it is the object of this 
Dissertation to unfold, none have been more important in 
their consequences than those relating to the composition 

when, happily for the prosperity of the arts and manufactures 
of this country, the subject engaged the keen ingenuity of Mr. 
Watt. The model of a Newcomen’s engine fell into his hands 
to be repaired, and in this he presently observed the immense 
loss of steam occasioned by its admission into the cylinder just 
cooled for condensation ; indeed, he went so far as to ascer¬ 
tain, by experiment, that half the steam of the boiler was thus 
lost. For, having constructed a boiler which showed the 
quantity of steam expended at every stroke of the engine, he 
found that it many times exceeded that which was sufficient to 
fill the cylinder. But the circumstance that excited his great¬ 
est surprise was, that the injection water gained infinitely more 
heat than if a quantity of boiling w'ater, equal to that required 
to form the steam, had been added to it. It was probably in 
this dilemma that he consulted Dr. Black—and the explanation 
of the difficulty will be obvious from the facts detailed in the 
text. To avail himself, therefore, of the whole power of the 
steam, it became absolutely necessary to keep up the tempera¬ 
ture of the cylinder constantly at the boiling point of water; 
this he w r as enabled to attain, by connecting with it another 
vessel, exhausted of air, and immersed in cold water, into 
which, when communicated with the cylinder, the steam, being 
an elastick fluid, instantly rushes and is condensed, and, on 
closing its connexion with the cylinder, the steam, again ad¬ 
mitted there, now operates with full force, and suffers no further 
condensation. To carry off the water from this second vessel, 
which he calls the condenser, and to perpetuate the vacuum, 
Mr. Watt attached to it a pump by which both the air and con¬ 
densed water are removed. The engine thus altered produced 
the same pow r er as one of equal dimensions on Newcomen’s 
plan, with rather less than one-third the quantity of steam; 
hence w 7 as a considerable hindrance to the use of the engine 

10 


74 


THIRD DISSERTATION, 


[sect. IV. 


of atmospherick air, a subject which the ancients seem not 
to have thought upon, since they regarded it as an ele¬ 
ment, or ultimate principle of matter. 1 In this, as in most 
other branches of experimental science, the advances of 
the human mind have been very gradual: Mayow, in 1674 , 
was upon the very brink of that stream of discovery, 
which, in 1774, carried Priestley into the fastnesses of 
Pneumatick Chemistry. Hales, by showing the mode of 
disengaging and collecting gaseous fluids, removed many 
of the most serious obstacles which encumbered this path 

materially diminished, namely, the expense of fuel. But great 
as was this improvement, it forms a small part of the 
successful achievements of Mr. Watt in this department 
of mechanicks; he amended the apparatus for boring the 
cylinders, and improved every part of the working gear of 
the engine; and he infinitely extended its applications and 
utility, by applying the power of steam to produce motion 
round an axis; but their enumeration would lead me out of the 
bounds of chemistry. I, therefore, hasten to the invention 
which may be said to have perfected the steam-engine. Steam 
had hitherto only been used to force the piston down.—it was re¬ 
turned by a weight attached to the other end of the beam. Mr. 
Watt, in 1782, constructed an engine in which steam was used 
to elevate as well as to depress the piston, an alternate vacuum 
being formed above and below it, by the condenser, as before. 
An engine upon this plan, executed at Mr. Watt’s manufactory at 
Soho, near Birmingham, was first employed at the Albion Mills in 
1788. 

An excellent sketch of the history of the steam-engine will 
be found in the Edinburgh Review , Yol. XIII. p. 311. 

1 Thus Lucretius,— 

Aera nunc igitur dicain, quid corpore toto 
Innumerabiliter privas mutatur in horas : 

Semper emm, quodquoinque flu it de rebus, id omne 
Aeris in magnum fertur mare, qui nisi contra 
Corpora retribuat rebus, recreetque fluenteis, 

Omnia jam resoluta forent, et in aera vorsa, 

Baud igitur cessat gigni de rebus, et in res 
Recidere assidue, quoniam fluere omnia constat. 

De Rerum Natura , Lib. V. v. 274. 


**ct.iv.] THIRD DISSERTATION., tS 

of research ; he was followed by Boerhaave, and after¬ 
wards by Black, who, having reached the discovery of 
fixed air, turned into another road of investigation. Nei¬ 
ther Mayow, therefore, nor Hales, nor Boerhaave, nor 
Black, were very diligent cultivators of Pheuniatick Chem- 
istry ; they had, indeed, opened the mine, but did not 
explore it; its treasures were reserved for those whose la¬ 
bours we are now about to recount, and were chiefly borne 
away by the diligent dexterity of Dr. Joseph Priestley. 

If we trust the quotations of Rey already cited, the 
necessity of air, in the process of combustion, was not 
only observed, but inquired into by Caesalpinus 1 and Li- 
bavius, “ as far back as the sixteenth and early part of the 
seventeenth century. Mayow insisted that a part only of 
the atmosphere was concerned in the phenomena of com¬ 
bustion, and found that air, in which bodies had burned, 
became unfit for the respiration of animals. 3 As soon as 

1 Born at Arezzo in 1519; died at Rome in 1603. His medi¬ 
cal works contain some scattered chemical observations, which, 
however, are of little importance. 

2 Libavius has sometimes been cited as the most rational che¬ 
mical inquirer of his age, but of this character 1 can find no jus¬ 
tification in his writings upon chemical subjects; they are 
either unintelligible, or trifling; he certainly had some merit as 
a contriver of apparatus, and his furnaces and distillatory ves¬ 
sels appear to have been ingeniously devised. 

He died in 1616. 

3 <c Nempe animalculum quodvis una cum lucerna in vitro in- 
cludatur, ita ut aeri externo aditus praecludatur, quod facile fac- 
tu est. Quo facto lucernam istam brevi expirantem videbimus; 
neque animalculum diu tedae ferali superstes erit. Etenim ob- 
servatione compertum habeo^ animal una cum lucerna in vitro 
inclusum, haud multo plus, quam dimidium temporis istius, quo 
alias viveret, spiraturum esse.” Tractalus qitinque , cap. vii. 
He then goes on to show that an animal requires less air than that 
wanted for the combustion of a candle, and endeavours to prove 


76 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[IKCT. IV. 


it had been ascertained that, in the phenomena of com¬ 
bustion and respiration, a portion of fixed air was generat¬ 
ed, the extinction of burning bodies, and the death of ani¬ 
mals immersed in air, thus rendered foul, were referred to 
the presence of that gaseous body, its noxious qualities 
having been amply proved by Black and others ; and this 
opinion seemed to be sanctioned by the discovery, that 
air thus tainted by respiration and combustion, might, in 
some measure, be restored to purity by exposure to the ac¬ 
tion of lime water, which absorbed the fixed air. 

In 1772, Dr. Rutherford, Professor of Botany in the 
University of Edinburgh, published a thesis on Fixed, or, 
as it was then called, Mephitick air, from which the follow¬ 
ing passage is extracted.’ “ By the respiration of ani¬ 
mals, healthy air is not merely rendered mephitick, but 
also suffers another change. For, after the mephitick por¬ 
tion is absorbed by a caustick alcaline lixivium, the re¬ 
maining portion is not rendered salubrious, and although 

that the air in which an animal has been suffocated will not sup¬ 
port flame. “ Verisimile est autem aerem, qui vitae sustinendae 
inidoneus est, etiam ad flammam conflandum ineptum esse.— 
Quoniam ad lucernae deflagrationem majori particularum aerea- 
rum copia quam ad vitam sustinendam opus sit. Advertendum est 
autem hie loci, quod etsi flamma vitaque iisdem particulis sus- 
tinentur, non tamen propterea putandum est, sanguinis massam 
revera accensum esse. Tractatus quinque , L. c. Mayow’s ob¬ 
servations on the changes produced by the breathing of animals, 
on the air, are not less acute than those relating to the phenome¬ 
na of combustion. 

1 “ Sed aer salubris et purus, non modo respiratione animali 
ex parte fit mephiticus, sed et aliam indolis suae mutationem inde 
patitur. Postquam enim omnis aer mephiticus ex eo, ope lixivii 
caustici secretus et abductus fuerit, qui tamen restat nullo modo 
salubrior inde evadit, nam quamvis nullam ex aqua calcis prae- 
cipitationem faciet, baud minus quam antea, flammam et vitam 
extinguit.” 


SKCT. IV.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


77 


it occasions no precipitate in lime water, it nevertheless 
extinguishes flame, and destroys life. ,, 

Thus we have traced the discovery of two gaseous 
fluids differing from common air : fixed air, discovered by 
Black, and azote , as it has since been called, by Ruther* 
ford. The former, a component part of chalk, and of the 
mild alcalis, the product of the combustion of charcoal, 
and of the respiration of animals ; the latter an ingredient 
of atmospherick air. 

It would be a wearisome and unprofitable occupation to 
record, even in brief terms, the transactions of a set of 
cavilling philosophists who started up in this country, and 
elsewhere, about the present period of our history ; their 
names have sunk into oblivion, and their works were only 
read while recommended by novelty. Some of them I 
have reluctantly perused, and have found that they are 
rather calculated to weary the attention than to satisfy cu¬ 
riosity, or impart information. 

I therefore hasten to one of the most remarkable and 
splendid epochs of chemical science, adorned by discove¬ 
ries which have been rarely equalled, either in number or 
importance, and ushered in by a series of sterling facts 
and memorable investigations. The well known names of 
Priestley, Scheele, Cavendish, and Lavoisier, now appear 
upon the stage, and it will be an arduous but gratifying 
task to follow them through their respective parts. In this 
recital, a strict adherence to the dates of discoveries 
would neither be convenient nor useful, and I shall rather 
therefore deviate a little on this point, than cloud the per¬ 
spicuity of my narrative, or cramp it by chronological 
strictness. 

Dr. Priestley’s character was of so composite an order 
as to defy brief description or superficial delineation ; he 
was a politician, a divine, a metaphysician, and a philoso- 


78 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[shot. iv. 


pher ; and in each of these callings he displayed abilities 
of a peculiar and occasionally exalted description. His 
copious and important contributions to chemical science 
are the more surprising, when it is remembered that his 
philosophical pursuits were merely resorted to as a relaxa¬ 
tion in his theological studies ; that his mind was under the 
constant agitation of controversy and dispute ; that he was 
too impatient for deep research, and too hasty for premedi¬ 
tated plans. But, with all these bars against him, he was a 
thriving wooer of science: he made more of his time than 
any person of whom I ever read or heard ; and possessed 
the happy and rare talent of passing from study to amuse¬ 
ment, and from amusement to study, without occasioning 
any retrogade movement in the train and connexion of his 
thoughts. 

There is another important feature in Dr. Priestley’s cha¬ 
racter, which may tend to throw some light on his contro¬ 
versy with the French school : He possessed the strictest 
literary and scientifick honesty ; he makes frequent men¬ 
tion of his predecessors and contemporaries, and enume¬ 
rates the ideas which he borrowed from them, and the ex¬ 
periments they suggested, with more than necessary accu¬ 
racy and minuteness. His attachment to Chemistry seems 
to have been formed at Leeds, 1 about the year lf68, and be- 

1 Dr. Priestley was born at Fieldhead, near Leeds, in March, 
1733. In 1758, he went to Nantwich in Cheshire, where he es¬ 
tablished a school, and was, for the first time, enabled to pur¬ 
chase some philosophical instruments, in the use of which he in¬ 
structed his scholars. In 1761, he removed to Warrington, whence 
he made regular annual visits to the metropolis, and became ac¬ 
quainted with Mr. Canton, Dr. Franklin, and Dr. Watson, who 
assisted him in collecting materials for his History of Electricity. 
In 1767, Dr. Priestley went to Leeds, where his attention was 
especially directed to the doctrine of air , in consequence of re¬ 
siding near a public brewery, where he amused himself by ex¬ 
periments on the fixed air produced by fermentation. “ When I 


SECT.IV.} 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


79 


tween 1 hat period and the year 177*2, he had added several 
new and highly important facts to the science, which are de¬ 
tailed in a long communication presented to the Royal So¬ 
ciety in the spring of that year. It is here that he relates 
those researches respecting the influence of vegetation upon 
the atmosphere, which led to entirely new views of the 
physiology of plants, and which displayed, in a striking 
light, some of those masterly and beneficent adjustments of 
nature, by which the different members of the creation are 
made to minister to each other’s wants, and thus preserve 
that eternal harmony which marks the natural world. 

As combustion and respiration were connected with the 
deterioration of air, it occurred to Dr. Priestley to ascer¬ 
tain how far the growth of vegetables might be productive 
of similar effects. 

“ One might have imagined,” says he, “ that since com¬ 
mon air is necessary to vegetable as well as to animal life, 
both plants and animals would affect it in the same manner ; 
and I own I had that expectation, when I first put a sprig of 
mint into a glass jar, standing inverted in a vessel of water ; 
but when it had continued growing there for some months, 

removed from that house,” says he ( Memoirs of his own life, p. 61,) 
“ I was under the necessity of making the fixed air for myself; 
and one experiment leading to another, as I have distinctly and 
faithfully noted in my various publications on the subject, I by 
degrees contrived a convenient apparatus for the purpose, but of 
the cheapest kind.” Dr. Priestley’s first publication on the sub¬ 
ject was in 1772, and related to the impregnation of water with 
fixed air, and the same year, in the monlh of March, his Observa¬ 
tions on different kinds of Air , were read before the Royal Society, 
to which body he continued to communicate his other valuable 
researches. In 1794, he embarked for America, and took up his 
residence in Pennsylvania, where he died on the 6lhof February 
1804. 

We have here omitted all allusious to his religious opinions and 
controversies, referring our readers to his Memoirs , and to his 
life in the General Biographical Dictionary. 


80 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. IV . 


I found that the air would neither extinguish a candle, nor 
was it at all inconvenient to a mouse which I put into it.” 

In experiments of this kind, Dr. Priestley points out the 
necessity of often withdrawing the dead and dying leaves, 
lest, by their putrefaction, they should injure the air ; he 
aho hints at the noxious powers of some plants, especially 
the cabbage, of which he kept a leaf in a glass of air for 
one night only, and in the morning a candle would not burn 
in it. 1 

Dr. Priestley also extended his experiments to the influ¬ 
ence of plants upon air vitiated by animal respiration and 
by combustion, and found that they in general did not only 
not contaminate the air, but that they actually restored to 
purity that which had been rendered impure by flame and 
breathing ; and by showing that this change was effected by 
groundsel a3 perfectly as by mint, proved it independent of 

1 At the beginning of the last summer, I confined, in equal 
portions of atmospherick air, as nearly as possible, equal surfaces 
of the leaves of spearmint, cabbage, mustard, bean, pea, and the 
vine. The plants were all thriving, and, during a great part of 
the day, were exposed to the sun. The bulk of the air, which 
was confined over water, was not altered either by the mint or 
vine leaves; the pea and bean leaves caused a slight diminution, 
but the air. in contact with the cabbage and mustard plant, was 
lessened by about one fifteenth and one sixteenth of its original 
bulk, and it extinguished a taper, which the others did not. The 
duration of each experiment was 48 hours. The average of the 
thermometer, during the period, was 52°, and of the barometer, 
29,5 inches. This is not the place to enter into any explanation 
of these facts, or to enlarge the account of them ; they prove, 
however, a corroboration of Priestley’s assertion, that different 
vegetables act very differently on the air, and may be useful in 
adjusting somediscordant results of later experimentalists. Some 
plants are much more gross feeders than others, and the nature of 
the soil in which they grow may often be, in some degree, judged 
of by their flavour. Those vegetables which are of a very quick 
and luxuriant growth, and readily susceptible of the influence of 
manures, affect the atmosphere more than those whose growth is 
comparatively slow, and whose foliage is sparing. 


SECT. IV.) 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


81 


the aromatick oil, to which some in their ignorance had been 
willing to refer it. 

That actual vegetation was necessary, and the mere 
vegetable insufficient, he proved by exposing the pulled 
leaves of a mint plant to air, which were unproductive of 
the regeneration effected by the growing sprig. 

Dr. Priestley concluded from these experiments, that 
the noxious air resulting from combustion, and from the 
breathing of the different animal tribes, formed part of the 
nourishment of plants ; and that the purity of our at¬ 
mosphere, and its fitness for respiration, were materially 
dependent upon the functions of growing vegetables. 

Mayow in 1674, and Hales in 1'724, had observed the 
production of gaseous matter during the action of nitrick 
acid upon the metals. I have before alluded to the very 
rude manner in which Mayow collected it. Hales ascer¬ 
tained its singular property of producing red fumes when 
mixed with common air. Dr. Priestley resumed these in¬ 
quiries, and pursued them with clever activity : he found, 
that, on mixing one hundred parts, by measure, of com¬ 
mon air, with one hundred of the air procured by the ac¬ 
tion of nitrous acid on copper, which he called nitrous 
gas, red fumes were produced, and there was a diminution 
of bulk equal to ninety-two parts in the two hundred; so 
that one hundred and eight parts only remained. 

When fixed air was thus mixed with nitrous air, there 
was no diminution ; when air, contaminated by combustion 
or respiration, was used, the diminution was less than with 
purer air; and with air taken from different situations. 
Dr. Priestley thought he obtained rather variable results. 
Hence the beautiful application of nitrous air to the dis¬ 
covery of the fitness of other species of air, for combus¬ 
tion and respiration. 


n 


82 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect, iv. 


It was for these discoveries that the Council of the 
Royal Society honoured Dr. Priestley by the presenta¬ 
tion of Sir Godfrey Copley’s medal, on the 30th of No 
vember, 17T3. 1 

1 ‘ 6 Sir Godfrey Copley originally bequeathed five guineas to 
be given at each anniversary meeting of the Royal Society, 
by the determination of the president and council, to the person 
who had been the author of the best paper of experimental ob¬ 
servation for the year past. In process of time, this pecuniary 
reward, which could never be an important consideration to a 
man of enlarged and philosophical mind, however narrow his 
circumstances might be, was changed into the more liberal form 
of a gold medal, in which form it is become a truly honourable 
mark of distinction, and a just and laudable object of ambition. 
It was, no doubt, always usual with the Presidents, on the de¬ 
livery of the medal, to pay some compliment to the gentleman 
on whom it was bestowed, but the custom of making a set 
speech on the occasion, and of entering into the history of 
that part of philosophy to which the experiment related, was 
first introduced by Mr. Martin Folkes. The discourses, how¬ 
ever, which he and his successors delivered, were very short, 
and were only inserted in the minute books of the Society; 
none of them had ever been printed before Sir John Pringle 
was raised to the chair of the Society.” Chalmer’s Biographi¬ 
cal Dictionary.—Life of Pringle . 

Dr. Franklin, in a letter upon the subject of this discovery 
to Dr. Priestley, has expressed himself as follows: 

“ That the vegetable creation should restore the air which 
is spoiled by the animal part of it, looks like a rational sys¬ 
tem, and seems to be of a piece with the rest. Thus, fire 
purifies water all the world over- It purifies it by distillation 
when it raises it in vapours, and lets it fall in rain; and farther 
still by filtration, when, keeping it fluid, it suffers that rain to 
percolate the earth. We knew before that putrid animal sub¬ 
stances were converted into sweet vegetables when mixed with 
the earth and applied as manure; and now, it seem3 that the 
same putrid substances, mixed with the air, have a similar ef¬ 
fect. The strong thriving state of your mint in putrid air, 
seems to show that the air is mended by taking something from 
it, and not by adding to it. I hope this will give some check 
to the rage of destroying trees that grow near houses, which 
has accompanied our late improvements in gardening, from an 
opinion of their being unwholesome. I am certain, from long 


?BCT. IV.) 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


83 


Sir John Pringle, who was then President, delivered, 
on this occasion, an elaborate and elegant discourse upon 
the different kinds of air, in which, after expatiating upon 
the discoveries of his predecessors, he points out the 
especial merits of Priestley’s investigations; In allusion 
to the purification of a tainted atmosphere by the growth 
of plants, the President has thus expressed himself: 

“ From these discoveries we are assured, that no vege- 
table grows in vain; but that, from the oak of the forest 
to the grass of the field, every individual plant is service- 
able to mankind; if not always distinguished by some 
private virtue, yet making a part of the whole which 

observation, that there is nothing unhealthy in the air of woods ; 
for we Americans have every where our country habitations in 
the midst of woods, and no people on earth enjoy better health, 
or are more prolific!*.” Phil. Trans. 1772, page 199. 

Notwithstanding these researches, which have exposed some 
very curious facts relative to the chemical physiology of plants, 
it must be confessed that the causes of the renovation and 
equality of our atmosphere are yet by no means ascertained 
for, although some growing vegetables do, under certain circum¬ 
stances, purify the air, (by the absorption of carbon and the 
evolution of oxygen,) yet, when in a state of decay, they inva¬ 
riably add to its contamination, and a general view of the sub¬ 
ject would induce us to conclude, that they do as much harm 
as good, at least, if recent experiments connected with this sub¬ 
ject are to be considered as correct. 

These are the prominent features of Dr. Priestley’s first com¬ 
munication to the Royal Society respecting the different kinds 
of air, and had he bestowed no other contribution upon chemis¬ 
try, the facts here detailed would have entitled him to a con¬ 
spicuous place among the benefactors of the science. The pa¬ 
per is divided into several sections, in which he discusses the 
nature and properties of fixed air; of the air contaminated by 
the combustion of candles and of brimstone; of inflammable 
air; of air infected with animal respiration or putrefaction; of 
air exposed to the action of mixtures of iron filings and sul¬ 
phur; of nitrous air ; of air in which metals have been calcined, 
and which has been exposed to the action of white-lead paint 5 
and of air procured by spirit of salt. 


84 THIRD DISSERTATION. [sect. iv. 

cleanses and purifies our atmosphere. In this the fragrant 
rose and deadly nightshade co-operate ; nor is the herbage 
nor the woods that flourish in the most remote and un¬ 
peopled regions unprofitable to us, nor we to them, con¬ 
sidering how constantly the winds convey to them our 
vitiated air, for our relief and for their nourishment. And 
if ever these salutary gales rise to storms and hurricanes, 
let us still trace and revere the ways of a beneficent Be¬ 
ing, who not fortuitously, but with design, not in wrath, 
but in mercy, thus shakes the water and the air together, 
to bury in the deep those putrid and pestilential effluvia 
which the vegetables on the face of the earth had been 
insufficient to consume.” 

Such were Dr. Priestley’s researches, and such the 
views to which he had been led previous to the year 
1773, when he undertook the examination of the air which 
rises from red lead, and from red precipitate of quick¬ 
silver, when those substances are exposed to heat. This, 
indeed, was one of the topicks upon which Hales had 
touched before him, but it was passed over with that 
hasty and superficial carelessness of which his experimen¬ 
tal proceeding furnish so many instances, and in which 
he so often lost the substance by grasping at the shadow. 

Dr. Priestley cast his keenest eye upon the prospect 
now before him, and as the various objects came into 
view, he followed them up with more than his ordinary 
diligence and usual sagacity. The track he had entered 
upon was, indeed, of such abundant promise, as would 
have insnared the attention and excited the curiosity of 
one less awake than our author to its interest and novel¬ 
ty. But he, already well initiated in the management of 
aeriform fluids, proceeded with a rapidity which left his 
associates far behind, and carried him, in proud and un~ 
disputed precedence, to the goal of discovery. 


SECT. IV.j 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


85 


The 1st of August 1774 is a red-letter day in the annals 
of Chemical Philosophy, for it was then that Dr. Priest¬ 
ley discovered dephlogisticated air. Some, sporting in 
the sunshine of rhetorick, have called this the birth-day of 
Pneumatick Chemistry; but it was even a more marked 
and memorable period ; it was then (to pursue the meta¬ 
phor) that this branch of the science, having eked out a 
sickly and infirm infancy in the ill-managed nursery of the 
early Chemists, began to display symptoms of au impro¬ 
ving constitution, and to exhibit the most hopeful and un¬ 
expected marks of future importance. 

Dr. Priestley’s original opinion, that all kinds of facti¬ 
tious air were noxious, seems first to have been shaken by 
observing that a candle would burn in air procured by 
distilling nitre in a gun barrel; but the first experiment, 
which led to a very satisfactory result, was conducted as 
follows. A glass jar was filled with quicksilver, and in¬ 
verted in a basin of the same ; some red precipitate of 
quicksilver wa3 then introduced, and floated upon the 
quicksilver in the jar; heat was applied to it in this situa¬ 
tion by a burning lens, and “ I presently found that air was 
expelled from it very readily. Having got about three or 
four times as much as the bulk of my materials, I ad¬ 
mitted water into it, and found that it was not imbibed 
by it. But what surprised me more than I can well 
express, was, .that a candle burned in this air with a re¬ 
markable vigorous flame, very much like that enlarged 
flame with which a candle burns in nitrous air exposed to 
iron or liver of sulphur; but, as I had got nothing like 
this remarkable appearance from any kind of air besides 
this peculiar modification of nitrous air, and I knew no 
nitrous acid was used in the preparation of mercurial 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


{sect. 1 r. 


86 

calcinatus , I was utterly at a loss how to account for 
it.” 1 

He afterwards obtained the same kind of air by expos¬ 
ing red lead and several other substances to heat, and 
made a number of well-devised experiments upon its pro^ 
perties. 

Those who, for the first time, witness the effect of this 
air upon burning bodies, will best picture to themselves 
the emotion and surprise of its discoverer, when he plung¬ 
ed a burning taper into it. The splendour of the flame 
was magnificently increased, the consumption of the wax 
was extremely rapid, and the heat evolved much more 
considerable than in common air. He found, in short, 
that, in all cases of combustion, the process was infinitely 
more rapid and perfect in this kind of air, than in the ordi¬ 
nary atmosphere; 2 and he was thence induced to apply 
the term dephlogisticated to the gas he had thus obtained. 
He regarded it as air deprived of phlogiston, and thus ac¬ 
counted for its eager attraction for that principle which, 
during combustion, bodies were imagined to throw off*. 

1 Experiments and Observations on Different Kinds of Air, &c. 
Vol. II. p. 107. Birmingham , 1790. 

2 The following paragraph, with which Dr. Priestley prefaces 
his account of the discovery of dephlogisticated air, presents a 
picture of his mind in regard to the origin of his own re¬ 
searches. 

“ The contents of this section will furnish a 'frery striking il¬ 
lustration of the truth of a remark which I have more than once 
made in my philosophical writings, and which can hardly be too 
often repeated, as it tends greatly to encourage philosophical 
investigations; viz. that more ij owing to what we call chance, 
that is, philosophically speaking, to the observation of events 
arising from unknown causes , than to any proper design or pre¬ 
conceived theory in this business. This does not appear in the 
works of those who write synthetically upon these subjects, but 
would, I doubt not, appear very strikingly in those who are the 
most celebrated for their philosophical acumen, did they write 
analytically and ingenuously.” (Exp, and Obs. Vol. II. p. 103.) 


iKCT. IV.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


87 


On the contrary, he accounted for the extinction of flame 
by the air discovered by Rutherford, and since termed 
azote 1 or nitrogen , 2 upon the idea that that aeriform fluid 
was charged or saturated with phlogiston, and he there¬ 
fore called it phlogisticated air . 3 

In enumerating the higher merits of Dr. Priestley as a 
discoverer, we must not forget the minor advantages which 
his ingenuity bestowed upon experimental Chemistry.—He 
supplied the Laboratory with many new and useful articles 
of apparatus, and the improved methods of managing, col¬ 
lecting, and examining gaseous fluids, were chiefly the re¬ 
sults of his experience. He was the first who, with any 
chance of accuracy, endeavoured to ascertain the relative 
or specifick gravities of the different kinds of air then 
known ; he observed that dephlogisticated air was rather 
heavier, and phlogisticated air somewhat lighter, than that 
of the atmosphere; nitrous air he conceived to be nearly 
of the same specifick gravity. His experiments were made 
by the help of a delicate balance and exhausted flask. 

The influence upon the respiration of animals of a spe¬ 
cies of air marked by the eminent perfection with which 
it supports combustion, did not escape Dr. Priestley’s no¬ 
tice. On applying to it his test of nitrous air, he found 
the absorption produced on mixture greater than with at- 
mospherick air; whence he conjectured its superiour fit 
ness for the support of life; he introduced mice into it, 
and found that they lived longer than in an equal bulk of 
atmospherick air; he then had the curiosity to taste the 

1 From a and “ destructive of life.” 

2 i. e. Producer of nitrick acid. 

3 The application of dephlogisticated air to obtain intense de 
grees of heat, and its probable uses in medicine, were subjects 
which did not altogether escape Dr. Priestley’s attention, and 
he has alluded to them in the section of the work already quo* 
ed, relating to its “ Properties and uses.” 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. IV* 


88 

gas himself, and after two or three respirations, he felt, 
or fancied he felt, a peculiar sensation of lightness and 
ease of the chest. “ Who can tell,” says he, “ but that 
in time this pure air may become a fashionable article in 
luxury.—Hitherto only two mice and myself have had 
the privilege of breathing it.” To this he foolishly adds, 
that “ the air which nature has provided for us is as good 
as we deserve.” 

We have not yet exhausted Dr. Priestley’s discoveries, 
but have seen enough to establish his claims to the title of a 
great benefactor to chemical science. If we compare him 
with his predecessor Black, he falls short in depth of 
judgment, but in quickness of conception, and industry of 
pursuit, he excels even such a standard of comparison. 
The one climbed the hill of discovery with slow and cau¬ 
tious steps, and calmly enjoyed the surrounding views; 
the other made a more rapid ascent, but was giddy when 
he reached the summit; hence those distortions and mis¬ 
conceptions, those erroneous notions and hasty conclusions 
which he who turns over the philosophical writings of Dr. 
Priestley cannot fail to discern. 

Upon the other productions of his pen, metaphysical, 
political, and moral, it is neither my province nor inclina¬ 
tion to dwell; they abound in the defects, but are deficient 
in the merits, of his tracts upon chemical subjects.* 

From the commencement to the termination of his busy 
career, Dr. Priestley was a staunch supporter of the unintel¬ 
ligible system of phlogiston ; he adopted it in all its ori¬ 
ginal incoherence and absurdity ; and the last of his sci- 
entifick publications was a tract in its defence, in which are 
adduced a variety of objections to the revived hypotheses 

[* It is much to be regretted, that the ingenious author should 
hazard this sweeping censure—a censure altogether out of place, 
and, as many will think, not less unfounded than impertinent.] 


SECT.IV.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION* 


89 


of Rey and Mayow, and Hooke, which having long lain 
dormant, were at this time erupted into the chemical world 
under the specious title of the French theory. 1 

It will not be denied that the leading facts just detailed 
threw considerable light upon the nature and properties of 
atmospherick air; but those who have entitled Dr. Priest¬ 
ley the discoverer of its composition, have somewhat over¬ 
stepped the bounds of correctness. 

He seems, indeed, to have possessed no just notions 
of the difference between phlogisticated and dephlogisticat- 
ed air ; and, instead of regarding them as distinct chemi 

1 The tract alluded to in the text was published by Dr. Priest¬ 
ley after his retirement to America in 1800. It is entitled, The 
Doctrine of Phlogiston established , and that of the Composition of 
Water refuted. It contains a variety of miscellaneous observa¬ 
tions on the phlogistick and antiphlogistick theories, but it 
would be useless to follow the author into his unsubstantial 
speculations on these subjects. He has, however, thrown out 
some important considerations relating to his claims of originali¬ 
ty as the discoverer of dephlogisticated air. The following 
paragraph appears of sufficient importance to be transcribed. 
“Now that I am on the subject of the right to discoveries, I 
will, as the Spaniards say, leave no ink of this kind in my ink- 
horn ; hoping it will be the last time that I shall have any oc¬ 
casion to trouble the publick about it.” M. Lavoisier says (Ele¬ 
ments of Chemistry , English translation , p. 36,) “ this species of 
air (meaning dephlogisticated) was discovered almost at the same 
time by Mr. Priestley, Mr. Scheele, and myself.” The case 
was this :—Having made the discovery some time before I was 
in Paris in 1774, I mentioned it at the table of M. Lavoisier, 
when most of the philosophical people in the city were present; 
saying, that it was a kind of air in which a candle burned much 
better than in common air, but I had not then given it any name. 
At this all the company, and M. and Madame Lavoisier as 
much as any, expressed great surprise; 1 told them I had 
gotten it from precipitate per se, and also from red lead. Speak¬ 
ing French very imperfectly, and being little acquainted with 
the terms of chemistry, I said plomb rouge , which was not un¬ 
derstood, till M. Macquer said, I must meau minium. Mr. 
Scheele’s discovery was certain independent of mine, though 
I believe not made quite so early.” P. 88. 

12 


90 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SECT. 17 


cal principles, adopted the notion of one elementary sub¬ 
stance, charged, in the one instance, with the imaginary es¬ 
sence of inflammability, and free from it in the other. In 
these inquiries, he frequently verges upon more correct 
and refined views, but has no sooner entered the right path, 
than phlogiston, like an ignis fatuus, dances before his 
eyes, and leads him into the marshy mazes of errour. 

In the preceding investigations, Priestley followed 
those methods of collecting aeriform fluids over water, 
which Hales and others had employed before him : he now 
ascertained that there were some gases absorbed by or 
soluble in water. Mr. Cavendish, one of the most eminent 
Philosophers of that day, had announced this circumstance, 
and was puzzled by it; but Dr. Priestley, with his usual 
and dexterous ingenuity, overcame the difficulty, by em¬ 
ploying quicksilver instead of water, over which fluid 
metal he preserved and examined several kinds of air, 
which are instantly deprived of their elastick state by the 
contact of water. 

The first permanently elastick fluid of this description 
which he examined, was the muriatick acid ; he obtained it 
by heating copper in the fluid acid, or common spirit of 
salt, and called it marine acid air. 

He immediately ascertained its absorption by water, and 
its powerful acidity ; he found it incapable of supporting 
flame, and extremely destructive of animal life. He ex¬ 
amined the action of a variety of substances upon this gas, 
and ascertained the remarkable rapidity with which it is 
absorbed by charcoal, and several vegetable and animal 
substances. Some unsuccessful attempts were made to 
ascertain the specifick gravity of this gas, from which 
Priestley correctly concluded, however, that it was a little 
heavier than air. 

This success attending these'experiments, and the readiness 
with which he procured and retained the gaseous muriatick 


SECT. IV.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


91 


acid, led him to extend his trials to other acids, when he found 
that, by acting upon vitriolick acid by inflammable substan¬ 
ces, he could procure from it a permanently elastick fluid, 
to which he gave the name of vitriolick acid air; he found 
that, like the marine acid air, it was rapidly absorbed by 
water, and must be collected and preserved over quicksil¬ 
ver ; that it was nearly twice as heavy as atmospherick 
air; that it extinguished flame, and was instantly fatal to 
animal life; that it reddened vegetable blues, and destroy¬ 
ed most colours. This air is, in fact, produced by burn¬ 
ing sulphur in the atmosphere, and straw, wool, and other 
materials, are frequently bleached by exposing them to its 
fumes. 1 

1 Having elsewhere praised Dr. Priestley’s candour, I insert 
the following extract from his history of the discovery of Vitrio¬ 
lick Acid Air , to show the exactness with which he acknow¬ 
ledges the hints and assistance of others : 

“ My first scheme was to endeavour to get the vitriolick acid 
in the form of air, thinking that it would probably be easy to 
confine it by quicksilver, for, as to the nitrous acid, its affinity 
with quicksilver is so great that I despaired of being able to 
confine it to any purpose. I, therefore, wrote to my friend Mr. 
Lane to procure me a quantity of volatile vitriolick acid,” &c. 
“ Seeing Mr. Lane the winter following, he told me, that if I 
would only heat any oily or greasy matter with oil of vitriol, 
I should certainly make it the very thing I wanted, viz. the 
volatile or sulphureous vitriolick acid ; and, accordingly, I 
meant to have proceeded upon this hint, but was prevented 
from pursuing it by a variety of engagements. 

“ Some time after this I was in company with Lord Shel¬ 
burne, at the seat of Mons. Trudaine, at Montigny, in France; 
where, with that generous and liberal spirit by which that no¬ 
bleman is distinguished, he has a complete apparatus of philo¬ 
sophical instruments, with every other convenience and assist¬ 
ance for pursuing such philosophical inquiries as any of his nu¬ 
merous guests shall choose to entertain themselves with. In 
this agreeable retreat I met with that eminent philosopher and 
chemist, Mons. Montigni, Member of the Royal Academy of 
Sciences; and conversing with him upon this subject, he pro- 


92 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[s«ct. iv. 


Having thus obtained permanent aeriform fluids, having 
acid qualities, it occurred to Dr. Priestley, that the vola¬ 
tile alcali, the substance which gives pungency to salvola- 
tile, spirit of hartshorn, and similar compounds, might be 
also procured in a pure and isolated gaseous form; and, 
after several unsuccessful trials, he succeeded, by heating 
a mixture of quicklime and sal arnmoniack, when a great 
quantity of air escaped, permanent over quicksilver, but, 
like the acid gases, rapidly absorbed by water. 

The odour of this gas was pungent in the extreme, and 
it possessed the property of salvolatile, smelling salts, and 
similar substances, of turning vegetable blues to green. 
After several experiments, in which the absorbing powers 
of different substances in regard to this air, were tried, Dr. 
Priestley became impatient to discover the effect of mixing 
it with the acid airs just described,—he imagined that he 
should form a neutral air. On putting this notion, however, 
to the proof of experiment, he was surprised to observe 
that when marine acid air, and the volatile alcaline air, 
were mixed in due proportions, they were wholly con¬ 
densed into a solid. And with sulphureous air a very simi¬ 
lar result was afforded. 

Dr. Priestley concluded that alcaline air was considera¬ 
bly lighter than acid air, because, on mixing them over 
mercury, he observed the former to float above the latter; 

posed our trying to convert oil of vitriol into vapour, by boiling 
it on a pan of charcoal in a cracked phial. This scheme not 
answering our purpose, he next proposed heating it together 
with oil of turpentine. Accordingly, we went to work upon it, 
and soon produced some kind of air confiued with quicksilver; 
but our recipient being overturned by the suddenness of the 
production of the air, we were not able to catch any more than 
the first produce, which was little else than the common air which 
had lodged on the surface of the liquor, and which appeared to 
be a little phlogisticated, by its not being much affected by a 
tnixture of nitrous air.” 


SBCT. IV.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


93 


on putting a lighted candle into alcaline air the flame was 
enlarged, and a portion of the air appeared to burn with 
flame. 

We have now considered the principal discoveries of 
Dr. Priestley, upon which his title to originality rests, and it 
must be allowed that they are not less important than nu« 
merous. If we even consider them merely as insulated 
facts, they are of a very superiour character, and tended 
greatly to enlarge our knowledge of the chemical elements 
of matter ; but the new views of many natural and artifi¬ 
cial phenomena, which they exposed, and which before 
were buried in deep obscurity, confer upon them a more ex¬ 
alted aspect, and have obtained for them the deserved meed 
of universal admiration. In perusing Dr. Priestley’s tracts, 
we find the thread of the narrative occasionally knotted 
with conceit, and weakened by garrulity; but these blemishes 
are compensated by prevailing candour and perspicuity of 
style : he had greatly extended the boundaries of science, 
and was awake to the importance of his conquests ; but re¬ 
sisted that febrile thirst of innovation and reform, which 
was endemick among contemporary Chemists. 

“ At present,” says he, in the Preface to his third vo¬ 
lume of Experiments and Observations , relating to various 
branches of Natural Philosophy, “ At present all our sys¬ 
tems are in a remarkable manner unhinged by the discovery 
of a multiplicity of facts , to which it appears difficult or 
impossible to adjust them : We need not, however, give 
ourselves much concern on this account. For when a suffi¬ 
cient number of new facts shall be discovered, towards 
which even imperfect hypotheses will contribute, a more 
general theory will soon present itself, and perhaps to the 
most incurious and least sagacious eye. Thus, when able 
navigators have, with great labour and judgment, steered 
towards an undiscovered country, a common sailor, placed at 


94 


THIRD DISSERTATION, 


[sect. v. 


the mast head, may happen to get the first sight of land. Let 
us not, however, contend about merit, but let us ail be intent 
on forwarding the common enterprise, and equally enjoy any 
progress we may make towards succeeding in it, and, above 
all, let us acknowledge the guidance of th^f great Being, 
who has put a spirit in man, and whose ipspiration giveth 
him understanding.” With this quotation, sufficiently cha- 
racteristick of his general style, I shall take leave of Dr. 
Priestley, and introduce another hero of chemical history, 
his contemporary and great rival, Scheele. 


SECTION V. 

DISCOVERIES OF SCHEELE AND CAVENDISH. 

Among those whose names became eminent in the history 
of chemical science during the first half of the eighteenth 
century, Margraaf and Bergman are entitled to particular 
mention. The former was a pupil of the once celebrated 
Neumann, 1 a man whose works are now not much thought 

1 Casper Neumann was born at Zullichau in Prussia, in 1682, 
and in 1705 we find him enjoying the patronage of the King of 
Prussia, by whom he was sent to complete his studies at the Uni¬ 
versity of Halle. In 1711, he became a pupil of Boerhaave, and 
shortly after visited England, whence he accompanied George I. 
to Hanover, in 1716. In 1723 he became Professor of Practical 
Chemistry in the Royal College of Berlin, where he died in 1737. 
His works consist chiefly in dissertations on various subjects of 
chemical inquiry, published in the Transactions of the Royal So¬ 
ciety, and in the Miscellanea Berolinensia. His Lectures were 
not printed till after his death, and proved a valuable maga¬ 
zine of chemical knowledge. “ The author,” says Dr. Lewis, 
who edited his works, “ biassed by no theory, and attached to no 
opinions has inquired by experiment into the proportions and 
uses of the most considerable natural and artificial productions, 
and the preparations of the principal commodities which depend 




SECT. V.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


95 


of, but who did considerable service to the Chemistry of 
his day, and was evidently possessed of great diligence and 
some capacity. In 1733, Margraaf 1 pursued chemistry un¬ 
der Juncker at Halle, and, having returned to Berlin in 
1738, we find several of his contributions in the Transac¬ 
tions of the Scientifick Society of that capital. Subsequent 
to that period, his works were collected and published at 
Paris in 176*2. They contain a great body of information, 
at that time novel and important, but they are chiefly en¬ 
titled to notice as furnishing specimens of the art of analysis, 
which was afterwards carried to greater perfection by Berg¬ 
man, 2 who, indeed, may be considered as the first who point¬ 
ed out the true objects of that branch of the science, and 
who aimed at conferring upon it the statical accuracy which 
has since rendered it so important and useful. 

But Bergman was something more than a diligent experi¬ 
mentalist and acute reasoner ; he was also an active patron 
of science, and had the merit of rescuing Scheele from his 
obscure situation, and of discerning that talent and genius 
in the bud, which was afterwards so vigorously fruitful. 

If we compare Scheele with our own countrymen, we 
discern him possessed of the accuracy and cool judgment 
of Black, conjoined with the inquisitive and busy activity 
of Priestley, and his success in the pursuit of science was 

on chemistry; and seems to have candidly, and without reserve, 
communicated all he discovered.” 

1 Born at Berlin in 1709, where he died in 1782. 

2 Torbern Bergman was born in Sweden in 1735, and died in 
1784. His principal chemical papers are contained in the Opus - 
cula, published at Hpsal in 1779. They contain much to ad¬ 
mire, not merely as being rich in facts and discoveries, but also 
on account of the general view which he takes of the mode of 
prosecuting philosophical inquiry, and which is so ably set forth 
in the preliminary essay, De Indagando Vcro. The Opuscula 
was translated into English by Dr. Edmund Cullen in 1788. 


96 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SRCT. V k . 


such as might be expected to flow from this happy and 
rare union of opposite talents. In the number of his dis¬ 
coveries, their weight, and novelty, he has indeed very 
few equals ; nor has their splendour been tarnished by 
time, or dimmed by the brilliant light of modern investi¬ 
gation. 

Scheele is among the fortunate few, who, starting from 
an obscure original, have attained the zenith of scientifick 
eminence. He was born in 1742 at Stralsund, where his 
father was a tradesman. His youthful days were passed 
in the house of an Apothecary at Gottenburgh, where, by 
singular perseverance, and that kind of industry which is 
prompted by strong natural inclination, he acquired a 
valuable stock of chemical information. In 1773, having 
removed to Upsal, accident brought him acquainted with 
Bergman, who became his friend and patron, and to whose 
honour be it told, that when Scheele’s reputation after¬ 
wards rose to such a height as threatened to eclipse his 
own, instead of listening to the voice of jealousy, which, 
on such occasions, is too common a frailty, he became 
more zealous in behalf of his rival, and more indefatigable 
in the service of his friend. Scheele afterwards removed 
to Koping, in the neighbourhood of Stockholm, where he 
died in 1786. 

No adventitious aid, however, can be said to have con¬ 
tributed to Scheele’s greatness. On the contrary, obsta¬ 
cles were opposed to his progress which would have damp¬ 
ed the ardour, and checked the flight, of less aspiring and 
persevering minds ; and much of his useful life was spent, 

“ not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the 
shelter of academick bowers, but amid inconvenience and 
distraction, in sickness and in sorrow.” 


SHCT. V.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


97 


Scheele’s first publication, which appeared in the Stock¬ 
holm Memoirs 1 for the year 1771, relates to the analysis 
of fluor spar. The peculiarities of this substance were 
first noticed in 1768 by Margraaf, but the discovery of 
the principle upon which they depend was reserved for 
the superiour sagacity of Scheele, who demonstrated in it 
the existence of lime, and acid till then unknown, w 7 hich 
he called fluorick acid. Scheele had applied acid of vi¬ 
triol with great success to the analysis of a variety of sub¬ 
stances, and on exposing powdered fluor spar to its action 
in a glass retort, he obtained the new body in question. 
The fluorick is one of the few acids which rapidly cor¬ 
rode glass; it dissolves silicious earth, a component part 
of glass ; and forms with it in an aeriform compound, per¬ 
manent until it touches water, when part of the silicious 
earth is deposited. Scheele, not aware of this fact, at first 
conceived that silicious earth was a compound of fluorick 
acid and water, for, on evolving the gas in a glass retort, 
and allowing it to pass into water, every bubble was coated 
with a film of flint; but he afterwards learned, that it was 
derived from the retort, which is soon eaten into holes. It 
is this property of fluorick acid which has led to its em¬ 
ployment for the purpose of etching upon glass. 

Scheele was next occupied in a series of researches on 
manganese, a mineral substance abundant in many parts of 
the world, but of which the nature was unknown until the 
appearance of his Dissertation upon iL in 1774. This 
tract is full of important facts, and glitters with brilliant 
discoveries. We are here first informed that manganese is 
a metallick calx ; that in its crude state it often contains a 
peculiar earth, to which the name barytes has since been 

1 Scheele’s Essays have been collected and translated into 
English by Dr. Thomas Beddoes. London, 1786. 

13 


D8 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. V. 


applied ; that the volatile alcali contains nitrogen as one 
of its essential component parts. But the most remarka- 
ble novelty announced in this Essay, is the discovery of a 
peculiar gaseous fluid of a yellow colour, which Scheele 
considered as the basis of the muriatick acid ; conceiving 
the addition of phlogiston requisite to the restoration of 
its acid properties. This dephlogisticated marine acid , 
as its discoverer termed it, was examined by him with 
some precision, and many of its leading characters ascer¬ 
tained, especially its power of destroying colour, which 
has since rendered it of so much importance to the bleach¬ 
er. It has since been termed uxymuriatick acid, and 
more recently, chlorine. Besides the valuable facts to 
which I have now alluded, Scheele’s Essay on Manga¬ 
nese contains others of considerable interest and impor¬ 
tance. There can be little doubt that he discovered azote 
about the same time as Dr. Rutherford. He obtained it 
by exposing compounds of sulphur, and the alcalies and 
earths, to confined portions of atmospherick air. He 
found a part was absorbed, and that the remainder, though 
not fixed air, was still incapable of supporting combus¬ 
tion. He went a step farther, and demonstrated the ex¬ 
istence of azote in the volatile alcali or ammonia, from 
which he obtained it by the action of certain compounds 
of manganese. 

For our knowledge of the method of obtaining tartarick 
and citrick acids in their pure state from tartar and lemon 
juice, we are also indebted to Scheele, and for a variety of 
curious and interesting documents relating to some of the 
metallick acids, and their combinations. A compound of 
one of the acids of arsenick and copper was particularly 
described by him, and recommended as a green pigment; 
he prepared it by adding to a solution of blue vitriol, an 
alcaline solution of white arsenick. 


SECT. V.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


99 


His chemical tracts on the nature and properties of milk, 
his observations on ether, on the preservation of vinegar, 
on Prussian blue, and on the nature of the acid matter in 
various fruits, are all entiled to the highest praise. A just 
notion of their excellence may be formed by comparing 
them with the essays of the ablest Chemists of the present 
day : in regard to experimental accuracy and just con¬ 
clusion, they generally stand this severe test; no small 
merit, when his humble means and deficient education are 
thrown into the balance against him. 

But, of the various works of Scheele, that which is most 
decidedly characteristick of an inventive and original ge¬ 
nius, is his Chemical Observations and Experiments on 
Air and Fire. Every page of this treatise has its merits, 
and they are distinct and peculiar ; sometimes we are 
struck with the sagacity of his inductions, at others, with 
the appropriateness of his experiments. The facts are 
detailed in intelligible, clear, and distinct arrangement; the 
theoretical speculations are adduced with that caution and 
modesty which ensures attention, and often commands ac¬ 
quiescence. Nor is this essay deficient in original dis¬ 
coveries of the highest class. He obtained oxygen from 
manganese without any knowledge of Priestley’s prior 
claims ; he calls it empyreal air, and has detailed its pro¬ 
perties and several modes of procuring it, with becoming 
accuracy and minuteness. Upon the composition of the 
atmosphere, and of rnetallick calces, he dwells at consi¬ 
derable length, and relates several remarkable facts con¬ 
cerning the chemical powers of the prismatick rays, and 
the radiation of terrestrial heat . 1 

1 In this admirable Dissertation, Scheele points out the dif¬ 
ference between the heat which radiates from a heated surface, 
and that which is diffused by currents of hot air. He also 
shows, that terrestrial radiant heat does not pass through glass, 


100 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. v. 


From one who wrote in that twilight period, when 
chemical philosophy was emerging from errour and absur¬ 
dity, we are not to expect the logical accuracy required 
at the present day. Scheele is sometimes hasty, and oc¬ 
casionally unintelligible ; but seldom careless, and never 
ridiculous. Different men will form different estimates of 
Scheele’s talents, and although I cannot agree with a con¬ 
temporary biographer who designates him “ as the bright¬ 
est ornament of human nature, and the most extraordinary 
man that ever existed it will, I think, be generally ad¬ 
mitted, that he was an acute and industrious philosopher, 
and an upright honourable man. 

Of the Chemical Philosophers that adorned the last 
age, the Honourable Henry Cavendish 1 stands foremost 
in the first rank. 

While Priestley and Scheele were extending the boun¬ 
daries of knowledge, and pursuing that brilliant career of 
which I have just presented an outline, Cavendish was 
not less successfully employed in another train of investi¬ 
gation. 

Van Helmont, Mayow, and Hales, had, by a series of 
crude and imperfect experiments, demonstrated the exist¬ 
ence of inflammable aeriform fluids ; but the nature of the 
peculiar principle to which they owe their inflammability 
had been but very imperfectly ascertained, till Cavendish 
turned his mind to the subject, and published upon it 
in the Philosophical Transactions for 1 776. The paper 
I allude to consists of three tracts, relating to inflammable, 
fixed, and nitrous air. The first is chiefly entitled to 

while that of the sun does; that polished glass and metal re¬ 
flect both heat and light, but that both are absorbed by a surface 
covered with lamp black; and that the direction of radiant 
heat is not diverted by a current of air. 

1 Bom in London on the 10th of October 1731. 


SECT. V.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


101 


attention from its originality and importance ; in the others 
he had been anticipated by Mayow and Black, or ex¬ 
celled by Priestley, Scheele, and others of his contempo¬ 
raries. 

By acting with dilute acids upon iron, zinc, and tin* 
Mr Cavendish obtained an inflammable elastick fluid. He 
found that it was afforded in the largest quantity by 
zinc, and that iron yielded more than tin ; and he particu¬ 
larly mentions, that the state of dilution, and quantity of 
the acid, provided it was sufficient to effect the solution 
of the metal, did not affect the quantity or quality of the 
air. He discovered in the gas thus obtained several cha¬ 
racters, which at once distinguished it from the other 
varieties of the air then known. It was not absorbable by 
water, it extinguished flame, and was fatal to animal life ; 
but, when a candle was presented to it, it inflamed ; and, 
when pure, burned with a blue lambent light. It was 
found to be the lightest known form of ponderable matter. 
Mr Cavendish considered it as about eleven times lighter 
than atmospherick air; but subsequent experiments have 
shown that, when it is rendered perfectly dry, and col¬ 
lected in a state of purity, it is about thirteen times lighter 
than atmospherick air. Compared with oxygen or de- 
phlogisticated air, its relative weight is as 1 to 15. 1 

1 This circumstance has led to its application for filling air 
balloons, which formerly were made to ascend by distension 
with rarefied air—a large quantity of fuel became thus neces¬ 
sary, which was greatly inconvenient on account of its weight; 
and the flame required for the rarefaction of the air inclosed in 
the balloon, was dangerous in the extreme—by confining in¬ 
flammable air in a silk bag, of sufficient dimensions, its small 
specifick gravity enables it to float in our atmosphere. The 
first ascent, with a balloon filled with hydrogen, was performed 
in France by M. Charles, on the 1st of December 1783——he 
rose to the enormous height of 10,500 feet above the earth’s 
surface. There is a passage in Dewynt’s Sermons , published in 


102 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[SKCT. V. 


He next proceeded to examine the results afforded by 
burning mixtures of inflammable and common air; and 
found that, in the proportion of one part of the former to 
about three of the latter, the mixture exploded on the con¬ 
tact of flame ; and that, when the vessel in which this in¬ 
flammation was performed was previously dry, it always 
became moist after the explosion. 

This circumstance was noticed by Macquer in 1766, and 
shortly after by Priestley, but that water was the result 
of the combustion, seems first to have occurred to Mr. 
Watt, who suggested the idea to Dr. Priestley in 1783. 

In January 1784, Mr. Cavendish presented a paper to 
the Royal Society, entitled Experiments on Air , in which, 
after some preliminary remarks, he adverts to Mr. Warl- 
tire’s experiments, related by Dr. Priestley, upon the 
formation of dew during the combustion of inflammable 
with common air, which by that gentleman was referred 
to the deposition of the air’s moisture during its phlogisti- 
cation ; for by the Chemists of that period, inflammable 
air seems to have been considered identical with phlogis¬ 
ton. 

The method in which Mr. Cavendish pursued this in¬ 
quiry was not less new than satisfactory, and the body of 
evidence adduced, so conclusive as to convince the most 
sceptical mind of the accuracy of his deductions. 

To ascertain the nature of the products of the combus¬ 
tion of inflammable air, he had recourse to two plans: he 
burned it slowly and rapidly,—in the one instance, a stream 
of the air issuing from a small tube, was inflamed in con¬ 
tact with the atmosphere, or oxygen; in the other, the 
two gases were mixed, and suddenly detonated; and he 

1658, from which it has been concluded, that balloons were 
known at that early period. 


SICT. V.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


103 


found that, proper precautions having been taken to ex¬ 
clude extraneous bodies, the result was perfectly pure 
water; “ it had no taste nor smell, and left no sensible sedi¬ 
ment when evaporated to dryness, neither did it yield any 
pungent smell during the evaporation; in short, it seemed 
pure water.” 1 His grand discovery of the composition 
of water necessarily led to a variety of others, scarcely 
inferiour in importance, and it tended to the elucidation of 
a variety of intricate phenomena in nature and art, in 
which that universal fluid is concerned. It was verified 
and established by the analytick and synthetick research¬ 
es of many modern Chemists, and it became a great organ 
in subverting the phlogistick doctrine. 

In the synthetick experiments proving the composition 
of water, originally devised and executed by Cavendish, 
he frequently observed the production of acid matter; the 
water formed was sour to the taste, and reddened vegeta¬ 
ble blues ; and he ascertained that these effects arose from 
the presence of a portion of nitrous acid. Whence this 
was derived remained to be proved,—whether the elements 
which, in one proportion, formed water, produced, in ano¬ 
ther proportion, the nitrick acid, or whether it resulted 
from other causes. In a paper read before the Royal So¬ 
ciety, in June 1785, Mr. Cavendish sets this curious and 
interesting question at rest, and developes the source of 
the acid which appeared in his former investigations. It 
arose from the presence of a portion of azote, w hich, when 
made to unite with oxygen, produced nitrick acid. The 
atmosphere has already been shown to consist of azote and 
oxygen,—these gases are there merely mechanically mix- 

1 Philos. Trans . 1784. p. 129. Inflammable air lias since re¬ 
ceived the name hydrogen , i. e. generator of water. 


104 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect, t. 


ed ; when they are made to combine in the presence of 
water, nitrick acid results. 

This curious fact was proved by several experiments. 
That which is most simple, and most satisfactory, consist¬ 
ed in confining a small portion of atmospherick air in a 
bent tube over quicksilver, and passing the electrick spark 
for some hours through the mixture. A diminution took 
place in its bulk, the mercury was corroded, and, on in¬ 
troducing a solution of potash, it became saturated, and 
yielded nitre on evaporation, a salt composed of potash 
and nitrick acid. 

These are the principal discoveries with which Caven¬ 
dish enriched the science of Chemistry ; they relate to 
the properties of hydrogen or inflammable air, to the com¬ 
position of water, and to the constitution of the nitrick 
acid. They are detailed in three communications to the 
Royal Society ; the first stands in the Philosophical 
Transactions for 1766 ; the other two in the volumes for 
1784 and 1785. 

Those who have heard Mr. Cavendish designated the 
Newton of Chemistry, and have only hastily perused his 
tracts, or witnessed imperfect illustrations of his research¬ 
es, may perhaps regard him less worthy that honourable 
and high distinction than his contemporaries Priestley and 
Scheele ; but a more careful examination of his writings, 
and a comparison of his reasoning and methods of research 
with those of even his most eminent fellow-labourers in 
science, will unanswerably support his claims, and display 
such peculiar and varied excellence, as must justify the 
highest encomiums and most elaborate eulogies which have 
been bestowed on his exalted name. In his philosophical 
proceedings, the severest scrutineer is challenged to de¬ 
tect a single false step, for every conclusion he has formed, 
every theory that he has advanced, even every sentence 


SECT. V,] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


105 


be has written, will bear microscopick examination. Aware 
that there was no royal road to philosophick truth, he re¬ 
lied solely upon the light of experiment, in the path of in¬ 
duction, and from this he never deviates. If he excelled 
not his contemporaries in the number of his discoveries, 
he certainly equalled them in their importance, and went 
far before them in statical accuracy and mathematical pre¬ 
cision : but as a Philosopher he scarcely admits of compari¬ 
son ; in him most of the defects of his contemporaries 
were absent, and their talents concentrated ; he was “him¬ 
self alone.” In Cavendish science may boast of a fol¬ 
lower not less disinterested than successful : liis affluence 
was princely, and his family noble; it was therefore not 
the desire of distinction in society, nor the more imperious 
call of necessity, but the thirst for knowledge, and love 
of truth, that summoned him to her banners. 

Mr. Cavendish did not lisp in the language of science; 
it was, indeed, late before he appeared as a candidate for 
philosophick fame. His first paper was published in the 
Transactions of the Royal Society for 1766, when he wa3 
in his 36th year, a period of life at which Black, Priestley, 
and Scheele, had already acquired no inconsiderable ce¬ 
lebrity. He was not confined to Chemistry only; Elec¬ 
tricity, and subjects connected with Meteorology and As¬ 
tronomy, often occupied his thoughts and employed his 
pen : his last essay is on the division of astronomical in¬ 
struments, published in the Philosophical Transactions 
for 1809. He was then in his 78th year, and in full pos¬ 
session of bodily activity and mental energy. After a 
few days illness, he expired on the 4th of February 1810, 
in the 79th year of his age. 

In private life, he was unambitious, unassuming, bash¬ 
ful, and reserved : he was peevishly impatient of the in¬ 
conveniences of eminence ; he detested flattery, and was 

14 


106 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sjecr. ?. 


uneasy under merited praise; he, therefore, shunned gene¬ 
ral society, and was only familiar in a very limited circle 
of friends. Here he bore his great faculties always meek¬ 
ly: his conversation was lively, varied, and instructive; 
upon all subjects of science he was at once luminous and 
profound ; and in discussion, wonderfully acute. 

We are now about to enter upon that period of our his¬ 
tory at which the science was reformed and modified by the 
French school. Of this chemical revolution I shall en¬ 
deavour to present a faithful though faint outline. I shall 
attempt to show the grounds of innovation, to expose the 
weak parts of the plan, to exhibit its merits, and to com¬ 
pare it with former theories. In the meantime, it may not 
be improper to take a rapid survey of the ground we have 
gone over, and to enumerate the materials already in the 
hands of the reformers. 

In the early hypotheses respecting the phenomena of 
combustion, they were conceived to depend upon the sepa¬ 
ration of a peculiar principle, called by Stahl and his as¬ 
sociates Phlogiston ; but the fallacy of these views was 
shown by Mayow, who, with his predecessor Rey, de¬ 
monstrated the necessity of atmospherick air in the pro¬ 
cess. The attention of Chemists was drawn from these 
subjects early in the eighteenth century, by the new train 
of investigation in which Dr. Black had successfully em¬ 
barked, and the field of Pneumatick Chemistry, which 
was so eminently cultivated by Priestley, Scheele, and 
Cavendish, absorbed universal attention. 

The ideas of the ancients concerning the Elements 
were now completely subverted. The air we breathe was 
proved to consist of two distinct aeriform fluids—the one 
a powerful supporter of combustion and respiration, the 
other extinguishing flame and exterminating life. Water, 
so long considered as a primitive body, had been resolved 


*ECT.VI.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


*107 


into simpler forms of matter; in short, novelties of the 
most attractive kind presented themselves on every side. 

The discovery of hydrogen was seized upon by the ad¬ 
vocates of phlogiston, as supporting their hypothesis, and 
it was generally considered as identical with that sub¬ 
stance, which had long been hypothetical, but was no# ex¬ 
hibited in a tangible form. The reduction of the metal- 
lick calces, by hydrogen, was considered as a powerful 
argument in favour of these notions, and wherever phlogis¬ 
ton had been supposed to be absorbed or evolved, hy¬ 
drogen seemed to play the part of that imaginary princi¬ 
ple. 

The views of Priestley and Scheele were combated by 
a host of petty controversialists, whose names are yet ex¬ 
tant, but whose writings are sunk into oblivion—they 
brought into the field an army of words, but not a single 
observation, founded upon fact or experiment. Mr. Cav¬ 
endish was more strenuously and respectably opposed ; 
among those who stood up against his theoretical views, 
Mr. Kirwan deserves especial mention, for he laid other 
departments of Chemistry under considerable obligations ; 
but his arguments and learning were of little avail against 
the tried and sterling facts which he questioned ; they are 
no creditable records to the author, but serve to show the 
feebleness of subtilty when opposed to the strength of 
truth. 


SECTION VI. 

INVESTIGATIONS OF LAVOISIER, 

Among the eminent scientifick characters who adorned 
the last century, Lavoisier lias always been looked upon 




108 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. yi. 


with high consideration. That his talents were shining, 
• and his career brilliant, cannot be denied ; but that he has 
those high claims to originality which we have been obliged 
to allow his exalted rivals, has been doubted by the ge¬ 
nerality of historians, and denied by those who have had 
access to the most correct information. I shall briefly no¬ 
tice his most important investigations, and afterward endea¬ 
vour to sketch his character as a Philosopher. 

The phenomena of combustion were with Lavoisier, as 
with his predecessors in the field of theoretical chemistry, 
a leading object of attention ; and the theory of latent heat, 
devised by Dr. Black, was assumed as the ground-work of 
his new views. 

It has already been stated, that, during the conversion 
of solids into fluids, and of fluids into vapours, there is a 
considerable absorption of heat; and that, on the other 
hand, when vapours and liquids are restored to the fluid 
and solid form, the heat, which they contained, is evolved, 
or passes from the latent to the sensible or thermometrick 
state. These views were assumed by the French school 
as the basis of their theory of combustion. The gas call¬ 
ed by Priestley dephlogisticated air, and by Lavoisier oxy¬ 
gen, was regarded as a compound of a peculiar ponderable 
basis, united to the matter of light and heat. During the 
process of combustion, the basis was represented as com 
billing with the combustible, augmenting its weight, and 
changing its properties ; whilst the imponderable elements 
of the gas, the light and heat, were said to be developed 
in the form of flame. 

Lavoisier instituted an extended and beautiful series of 
researches connected with this subject. Dr. Ingenhouz 
had devised the brilliant experiment of burning iron wire 
in oxygen, but had neglected any inquiry into the change 
suffered by the gas and the metal. Lavoisier ascertained 


S«CT. VI.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


109 


that the iron was converted into the black brittle sub¬ 
stance, called martial ethiops by the old chemists, and 
that 100 grains of iron absorbed about 100 cubical inches 
of the gas, and increased 35 grains in weight. Hence 
martial ethiops appeared to be a compound of oxygen and 
iron. 

Phosphorus was burned in the same manner. There 
was a considerable absorption of the gas, and it appeared 
that the phosphorus had sustained a precisely equivalent 
increase of weight. 

The general conclusions deduced from these experi¬ 
ments were bold, but incorrect. It was assumed that oxy¬ 
gen must be present in all cases of combustion ; that the 
base of the gas always unites to the burning body, and 
that the heat and light essential to the aeriform state of 
the oxygen are consequently thrown off, or rendered sen¬ 
sible. With regard to the necessity of the presence of 
oxygen, it may be remarked, that the cases are very 
numerous, in which bodies burn, and vividly too, indepen¬ 
dent of that principle, although it is perfectly true that, 
in the generality' of instances, oxygen feeds the flame. 

It is, therefore, more philosophical, to consider combus¬ 
tion, or the evolution of heat and light, as a general re 
suit of intense chemical action, and as ensuing in all cases 
where it may be conceived that the corpuscles of bodies 
are thrown into violent motion, than as depending upon 
the presence of any r distinct substance, or ensuing from 
the mutual actions of any appropriate forms of matter. 

But farther; there are many cases in which oxygen 
unites to bodies, without the evolution of heat and light, 
as during the gradual change of some of the metals by ex¬ 
posure to air. And there are numerous instances in 
which vehement combustion ensues, not only where there 
is no condensation of air, but where gaseous matter is 


110 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[sect. rr. 


positively produced, as in the inflammation of gunpowder; 
and hence the theory of latent heat, as applied to the 
composition of gases, is insufficient to account for the 
phenomena. 

Another weak part of the French hypothesis is that 
relating to the evolution of light, which, if derived from 
the gas, should be proportional to its consumption or soli¬ 
dification, whereas it depends chiefly on the combusti¬ 
ble. Richter, Delametherie, and Gren, regarded the gas 
as affording the heat only, which is proportional to the 
quantity consumed ; and they supposed the evolution of 
light to be derived from the combustible, and several 
modern chemists have espoused this explanation. Phos¬ 
phorus emits much more light than hydrogen, but con¬ 
sumes less oxygen ; hence we should regard phosphorus, 
as containing more combined light than hydrogen. This 
hypothesis involves several unnecessary suppositions ; but 
these cannot be discussed without reference to subjects 
which are excluded by the limits of this discourse. It 
may, however, here be observed, how nearly the French 
theory of combustion agrees with that of Rey and Mayow, 
in referring the increase of weight of the combustible, to 
the fixation of air: this was the great obstacle in the phlo- 
gistick hypothesis, and Rey and Lavoisier overcame it by 
the same means. 

Oxygen was not merely considered by the French 
school as necessary to combustion, but also as an essen¬ 
tial ingredient in all acids (whence the term oxygen ;) but 
there are many acids in which no oxygen can be proved 
to exist, and it is now known even to form a component 
part of the alcalies and earths. If sulphur be burned in 
oxygen, it produces sulphurous acid gas : if potassium 
be heated in sulphurous acid gas, it robs the sulphur of its 
oxygen, and is converted into potash ; here oxygen is seen 


31CCT. VI.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


131 


alternately producing an acid and an alcali,—the result 
depending not upon the oxygen, but upon the base with 
which it combines. 

In detailing the discoveries of Dr. Black, I was led to 
notice his researches concerning the production of fixed 
air. This gas was also examined with much attention by 
Priestley, Scheele, and Cavendish, and they have each 
made important additions to our knowledge of its sources 
and properties. 

Lavoisier’s inquiries respecting the composition of fixed 
air, and its production du-ring the combustion of charcoal 
and of the diamond, were highly important as connected 
with his general theoretical views. Black had indeed as¬ 
certained that burning charcoal produced fixed air, but 
rested satisfied with the mere fact, and pursued not the in¬ 
quiry which is naturally suggested, and which was eager¬ 
ly taken up by Lavoisier at an early period of his scien- 
tifick career. He burned a given weight of charcoal in a 
given proportion of oxygen gas confined over quicksilver, 
and when the vessel had cooled, he introduced a solution 
of potash, which absorbed the fixed air. He thus ascer¬ 
tained the bulk of the fixed air generated by the charcoal, 
and the bulk of oxygen consumed ; and, by weighing the 
residuum of the charcoal, he found the quantity lost by 
its combustion. From such experiments, he was led to 
regard fixed air as composed of oxygen and charcoal, in 
the proportions by weight of about 70 of the former and 
30 of the latter. Soon after the discovery of fixed air by 
Black, it was demonstrated by Keir, Bergman, and Fon¬ 
tana, to possess acid properties ; hence it was occasion¬ 
ally termed aerial acid, cretaceous acid, and mephitick 
acid. Consistently with the principles of the new nomen¬ 
clature, it received from Lavoisier the name of carbonick 


112 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


[8ECT. VI. 


acid, a term implying that it is composed of charcoal and 
oxygen ; and this it has since retained. 

The production of fixed air, or, as we may now call it, 
carbonick acid, during the combustion of diamond, is one 
of the most remarkable and important discoveries with 
which Lavoisier enriched chemical science. The destruc¬ 
tion of this precious gem by fire was demonstrated by the 
Florentine academicians as early as 1690; they exposed 
a diamond to the focus of a burning lens, and found that 
it was entirely evaporated ; and Francis the First, of Ger¬ 
many, witnessed the same phenomenon in the heat of a 
furnace. Lavoisier proved that the diamond underwent 
no change when air was excluded; and that, when ignited 
in oxygen gas, it produced carbonick acid ; whence the 
inevitable conclusion that the diamond and charcoal are 
identical in their nature ; and that the vast difference in 
their appearance and mechanical qualities is the result of 
aggregation ; that the one is crystallized, the other in a 
less indurate form. Unprecedented as such an idea may 
seem, it is not only warranted by the experiments of La¬ 
voisier and others, but also in some degree supported by 
analogy. Thus, when argillaceous earth, which is a white 
pulverulent substance, is aggregated by mechanical at¬ 
traction into a crystaline form, it constitutes the sap 
phire, one of the hardest and least destructible of the 
gems. In one state, the earth is soft, and readily soluble 
in acids ; in the other, its insolubility equals its induration : 
but there is one invincible anomaly relating to the conduct 
ing power of the diamond and charcoal, in regard to elec¬ 
tricity ; the former ranks among the non-conductors, the 
latter is a conductor; and hitherto mechanical texture has 
not been shown, in any analogous cases, to interfere with 
the power of conducting electricity. 


8JSCT. VI.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


113 


Among those who have further explored the phenome¬ 
na of the combustion of the diamond, and who have veri¬ 
fied and extended the original views of Lavoisier, we find 
the names of the most eminent European Philosophers. 
Few subjects in Chemistry have been so eagerly pursued, 
and the united results of different experimentalists have 
rarely tallied with the precision which these researches 
present. 1 

The discoveries of Rutherford and of Priestley, in the 
years 177*2 and 1774, had disclosed the elements of atmos- 
pherick air, and several experiments respecting the pro¬ 
portions in which they are blended, had been instituted by 
these, and other Philosophers. In the year 1775, Lavoi¬ 
sier resumed these inquiries, with a masterly aud decisive 
hand ; he heated mercury in contact with a known portion 
of atmospherick air; it gradually acquired a red film, 
which after some days ceased to form, and the metal remain¬ 
ed unaltered ; he then withdrew the fire, and suffered the 

1 That the quantity of carbonick acid, afforded by a given 
weight of diamond, is the same as that yielded by a similar quan¬ 
tity of charcoal, is the great proof of the identity of those ap¬ 
parently dissimilar substances : this was demonstrated in the 
year 1796, by the refined and elegant experiments of Mr. Ten¬ 
nant, whose untimely loss society has lately had to deplore. 
Mr. Tennant was a profound philosopher, and a matchless 
companion,—his learning was without pedantry ; his wit with¬ 
out sarcasm,—he was deep, but always clear; gentle, but never 
dull. To those who knew him not, it is scarcely possible to 
offer an adequate representation of his singularly pleasing and 
enlightened character,—by those w ho enjoyed his acquaintance, 
and partook of his social hours, his extent of knowledge, his 
happy and unrivalled talent for conversation, his harmless but 
brilliant flashes of merriment, and all his amiable peculiarities, 
can never be forgotten. Friendship will long continue to w r eep 
over his grave, and science to lament beside his tomb. 

Mr. Tennant was born in Yorkshire in 1761, and died at 
Boulogne in 1815. 

See Biographical Account of Smithson Tennant, Esq. m 
Thomson’s Annals of Philosophy , Voh VI, 

15 


114 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


(sect. VI. 

vessels to cool; he found that the air had diminished in bulk, 
and that the quicksilver had increased in weight ; that the 
loss of the former was equivalent to the gain of the latter 
—which had absorbed the oxygen of the air, leaving the 
azote unaltered. By such investigations he arrived, with 
tolerable precision, at the proportion in which these gases 
exist in common air, and found, that, by mixing forty-two 
parts, by measure, of azote, with eight parts, b}' measure, 
of oxygen, he produced a compound precisely resembling 
our atmosphere, in its power of supporting combustion and 
respiration, and of contributing to the calcination of the 
metals. 

Besides these researches and discoveries, Lavoisier was 
the author of many scientifick papers in the Memoirs of 
the Parisian Academy. Of these a brief and hasty no¬ 
tice will suffice, as they relate not to the great reform of 
chemical theory, in which he was so conspicuous an actor, 
and upon which his fame and reputation have chiefly 
been raised. 

In 1764, the French Government proposed, as a prize 
question, “ Which is the best method of illuminating the 
streets of a large metropolis V 9 It was answered by La¬ 
voisier; and he was rewarded with an honorary medal. 
In 1768, he became a member of the Academy. In 1770, 
he controverted a prevailing opinion respecting the con¬ 
vertibility of water into earth; and, two years afterwards, 
published an ingenious geological essay upon the changes 
and stratification of the globe. In 1774, he entered upon 
the grand field of discovery which has occupied so much 
of our attention, and published an ingenious and compre¬ 
hensive view of Pneumatick Chemistry. A few years 
afterwards, his theory of acidity, of combustion, and of 
oxidizement; his experiments upon the composition of 
water, and of the atmosphere, and his views respecting the 


SHCT. VI.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


115 


nature anti affections of heat, were successively presented 
to 1 he publick ; and, in 1789, his work entitled Elemens de 
Chimie was given to the world. It contains a full account 
of his theoretical views and experimental researches. 

Lavoisier was an earnest promoter of the Chemistry of 
the Arts. He turned his attention to the improvement of 
several manufactures, and his labours were rewarded by 
considerable success. Agriculture was with him a favour¬ 
ite pursuit, and he endeavoured to improve its processes 
by experimental research. He was an able Political Eco¬ 
nomist ; and, for a few 7 years, filled the office of a Com¬ 
missioner of the National Treasury, with honour to him¬ 
self, and benefit to his country. 

The moral and social character of Lavoisier was of the 
most estimable cast. Contemporary historians agree in 
eulogizing his mild, amiable, and obliging manners; in ex¬ 
tolling his liberality, and in praising him, as the encoura- 
ger of deserving ingenuity, and the ardent patron of science 
and the arts. 

Through the scenes of the Revolution, such a man 
could not expect to pass unmolested. He was rich, and 
therefore criminal; virtuous, and consequently offensive. 
In short, because his publick character and private life 
were equally unimpeachable and blameless, he was mark¬ 
ed out for destruction, and murdered upon the scaffold on 
the 8th of May 1794, in his native city of Paris, and in 
the 51st year of his age. 

Upon these acts of iniquitous barbarity and inhuman 
treachery, equally degrading to the individual performers 
and to the beholding nation, it is neither my business nor 
inclination to dwell ; the recital of particulars would excite 
disgust rather than interest; and would rather shock than 
inform. 

We must now divest ourselves of the impressions natu- 
ally arising out of the virtues, the eminence, and the mis- 


116 


THIKO BISSERTATION. 


[sect. vt. 


fortunes of Lavoisier, and with unmixed attention steadily 
reflect upon his philosophical character. By some he has 
been extolled as the most original, inventive, and exalted 
genius of his age; by others stigmatized as an universal 
and dishonourable plagiarist; but these are the extremes of 
panegyrick and malevolence, each equidistant from can¬ 
dour and from truth. He was doubtless an acute, saga¬ 
cious, and useful Philosopher; his zeal for the welfare of 
science was unremitting and exemplary, and his affluence 
enabled him to pursue it upon an extensive and splendid 
scale. As an original discoverer, he bends before Black 
and Priestley, and was inferiour to Cavendish and Scheele; 
but, as a theorist, he has few equals ; he was com¬ 
prehensive, successful, and clear. If time has shaken his 
opinions, and loosened his speculations, the change must 
be referred to the imperfect and progressive state of 
Chemistry, rather than to their inherent futility. In Na¬ 
tural Philosophy, the systems of Pythagoras, Ptolemy, 
Descartes, and others, have successfully yielded to the 
satisfactory and apparently stable simplicity of the New¬ 
tonian doctrines; but the Newton of Chemistry is yet to 
come. 

It must be regretted, that those who have censured La¬ 
voisier with the uncandid and unacknowledged appropria¬ 
tion of the thoughts of others, have some grounds for 
ihe accusation. In bringing forward his theory of combus¬ 
tion, why did he smother the lucid opinions of Rey and 
Mayow ? why refuse praise and acknowledgments to Black, 
and Scheele, and Cavendish? or, why appropriate the dis¬ 
covery of oxygen, in the face of the prior, indisputable 
and known claims of his friend and contemporary Priest¬ 
ley ? These are questions we cannot now answer; but, 
those who have grounded harsh, indiscriminate, and se¬ 
vere censure, upon such accusations, have neither been 
animated by the independent spirit of true philosophy, 


SECT. VI.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


117 


nor guided by the unbiassed love of truth. It must be remem¬ 
bered, that Lavoisier was never fairly confronted by these 
rivals and antagonists ; that unintentional inadvertency 
often accompanies scientifick ardour, that, in the eagerness 
of pursuit, he may have neglected that which, in a calmer 
hour, he would have seen, regretted, and acknowledged; 
and that, in the hurry of discussion and heat of contro¬ 
versy, he was suddenly summoned to eternity . 1 

Though these considerations do not exculpate our phi¬ 
losopher, they must be allowed to extenuate his imputed 

1 Since writing the above, I have seen two scarce volumes of 
the posthumous works of Lavoisier in Mr. Hatchett’s library at 
Roehampton. They consist, in great measure, of extracts 
from, and sketches of his different papers read before the Royal 
Academy of Sciences, but several original Observations and 
Essays are also dispersed among them. They, in some degree, 
justify the observation which I have made in the text, that, had 
Lavoisier lived, he would have done merited justice to his pre¬ 
decessors and contemporaries, for he candidly reviews their opi¬ 
nions, and compares them with his own; at the same time, the 
following passage cannot be regarded as perfectly candid towards 
Rey, who, as I have shown above, founded his arguments 
not upon hypothesis, but upon experiment. 

I insert a long quotation, that there may be no misunderstand¬ 
ing upon the subject. 

After stating the prevailing phlogistick notions entertained 
at that period, he proceeds as follows: “ Tel etoit l’etat des 
connoissances, lorsqu’une suite d’experiences, entreprises en 
1772 sur les ditferentes especes d’air, on de gaz qui se dega- 
gent dans les effervescences et dans un grand nombre d’ope- 
rations chimiques, me firent connoitre, d’une maniere demon¬ 
strative, quelle etoit la cause de Paugmentation de poids, qu’ac- 
quierent les metaux lorsqu’on les expose a faction du feu.— 
J’ignorois alorsceque Jean Rey avoit ecrit a ce sujet en 1630; 
et quand je Paurois connu, je n’aurois pu regarder son opinion 
a cet egard, que comme une assertion vague, propre a faire hon- 
neur au genie de I’auteur, mais qui ne dispensait pas les chimistes 
de constater la verite de son opinion par des experiences. J’e¬ 
tois jeune, j’etois nouveJIement entre dans la carriere des sciences, 
j’etois avide de gloire, et je crus devoir prendre quelques precau¬ 
tions pour m’assurerla propriety de ma decouverte. II y avoit a 
cette epoque, une correspondance habituelle entre les savans de 
France et ceux d’Angleterre; il regnoit entre les deux nations, 


318 


THIRD DISSERTATION, 


[srct. vi. 


failings—they should induce us rather to soften the asperi¬ 
ties of his scientifick character, than to magnify its faults 
—instead of rejoicing that he was not perfect, we should 

une sorte de rivalite qui donnoit de l’importance aux experien¬ 
ces nouvelles, et qui portoit quelquefois lesecrivains de l’une ou 
de 1’autre nation, a les contester a leur veritable auteur; je crus 
done devoir deposer, le 1“ Novembre 1772, l’ecrit suivant. cach- 
ete, entre les mains du Secretaire de I’Academie. Ce depot a 
ete ouvert a la seance du 5 me Mai suivant, et mention du tout a 
ete faite en t6ie de l’6crit. II etoit concu en ces termes:— 

“ II y’a environ huit jours que j’ai decouvert, que le soufre en 
brulant, loin de perdre de son poids, en acquieroit au contraire ; 
e’est a dire, que d’une livre de soufre, on pouvoit retirer beau- 
coup plus d’une livre d’acide vitriolique, abstraction faite de 
l’humidite de Pair; il en est du mcime du phosphore : cette aug¬ 
mentation de poids vient d’une quantite prodigieuse d’air qui se 
fixe pendant la combustion, et qui se combine avec les vapeurs. 

“ Cette decouverte que j’ai constat^e par des experiences que 
je regarde comme decisives, m’a fait penser que ce qui s’ob- 
servoit dans la combustion du soufre et du phosphore, pouvoit 
bien avoir lieu a Pegard de tous les corps qui acquierent du 
poids par la combustion et la calcination: et je me suis per¬ 
suade, que l’augmentation be poids des chaux metalliques, tenoit 
a la m§me cause. L’experience a complettement confirme 
mes conjectures : j’ai fait la reduction de la lithrege dans 
des vaisseaux ferme3, avec l’appareil de Hales, et j’ai ob¬ 
serve qu’il se degageoit, au moment du passage de la chaux en 
metal, une quantite considerable d’air, et que cet air formoit un 
volume au moins mille fois plus grand que la quantite de li¬ 
tharge employee. Cette decouverte me paroissant une des plus 
interessantes qui ait ete faite depuis Stahl, j’ai cru devoir m’en 
assurer la propriete, en faisant le present depot entre le mains 
du Secretaire de I’Academie, pour demeurer secret jusqu’au mo¬ 
ment oilje publierai mes experiences.” 

(Signe) “ Lavoisier.” 

“En rapprochantcette premiere notice de celle que j’avois de- 
posee a I’ Academie le 20 me Octobre precedent, sur la combustion 
du phosphore, du memoire que j’ai lu a I’Academie a sa seance 
publique de Paques 1773, enfin, de ceuxque j’ai successivement 
publies, il est aise de voir, que j’avois concu des 1772, tout Tensem- 
ble du systeme que j’ai publie depuis sur la combustion. Cette 
fheoriea laquelle j’ai donnede nombreux developpemensen 1777, 
et que j’ai porte, presque des cette epoque a I’etat ou elle est au- 
jourdhui, n’a commence a etre ensignee par Fourcroy, que dans 
l’hyver del786 a 1787; elle n’a ete adoptee par Guyton Mor- 
veau, qu’a une epoque posterieure; enfin, en 1785 Berthollet 
ecrivoit encore dans le systeme du phlogistique- Cette thcorie 


SfCT. VI.] 


THIRD DISSERTATION. 


119 


delight in his excellence, and should estimate his charac~ 
ter as a Philosopher, not so much by the means he em¬ 
ployed, as by the noble effects produced. 

Among many other subjects which engaged the atten¬ 
tion of Lavoisier and his associates, that of reforming the 
nomenclature of Chemistry deserves to be noticed as 
highly beneficial to the promotion of the science, and as 
tending materially to facilitate its acquisition. I am in¬ 
clined, however, to think that, upon this point, too much 
credit has been given to the French school; rage for in¬ 
novation, and not zeal for improvement, seems often to 
have guided the undertaking; and terms, once deemed 
faultless, now appear not less absurd and objectionable 
than the fanciful names employed by the alchemical wri¬ 
ters. 

As principals in the formation of the new nomenclature, 
we find the names of Guyton Morveau 1 and Fourcroy, two 
men who may certainly be considered as ornaments of their 
age and country. The former, amidst varied avocations, 
prosecuted Chemistry with successful diligence, and, had 
he given nothing else to the science, his name deserves 
to be transmitted to posterity, as the inventor of the means 
of destroying infection by acid vapours, the efficacy of 
which he first pointed out in the year 1773. His first 
essay on the reform of nomenclature was published in the 
Journal de Physique for May, 1782, and although it was 
strenuously opposed by the colossal power of the Royal 
Academy of Paris, the plan was not only afterwards ap¬ 
proved, but prosecuted by the eminent Chemists of that 
metropolis. The different papers and correspondence re- 

n’est done pas , comme je Ventends dire , la thecrie des Chimistes 
Francois: elle est la mienne , et c’est une propriety queje reclame 
aupres de mes contemporains et de la posterite.” 

1 Bom at Dijon in 1737. Died at paris in 1815. See Life 
by Dr. Granville in the Journal of Science and Arts , Vol. III*, 
p. 249. 


120 THIRD DISSERTATION. [swJr. vi'. 

lating <o (bis subject are in many respects, curious and 
interesting from the difference of opinion which prevailed 
respecting the terms he adopted, and the ultimate benefit 
likely to result from the reformation. 

Fourcrov 1 is a well known name in the chemical world ; 
his works rank among the most celebrated w hich France 
has produced in the science of Chemistry, though they 
are sometimes deficient in candour, and sometimes in cor¬ 
rectness. His labours were important, and his discove¬ 
ries numerous, but they are in many respects, so closely 
interw r oven with those of contemporary Philosophers, that 
I have , deemed it expedient to wave farther notice re¬ 
specting their objects and merits. 

1 have now brought my narrative to the conclusion of 
the last century, about which period Electricity began 
to assume importance as a chemical agent, and the Vol - 
taick apparatus became a necessary implement of the la¬ 
boratory. To this source, the new aspect which chemical 
science now wears, may principally be referred, and the 
historian, who shall in aftertimes record the advances that 
have been made in Chemistry during the last eighteen 
years, will excite triumphs of the human mind never ex¬ 
celled, and rarely equalled.—I am apprehensive that the 
inquisitive eye will dptect several omissions in the fore¬ 
going pages, although I have dilige'ntly endeavoured to 
record every important event in the general history of the 
science. Of many who have attained deserved eminence 
in the exclusive pursuit of its distinct branches, no men¬ 
tion has been made : I have looked with attention into 
their works, and am well aware of their individual merits ; 
but I should have swerved from tdie principal object of 
this Dissertation, that of recording discoveries, had I at¬ 
tempted even the superficial enumeration of their infinite¬ 
ly varied applications. 


1 Born in Paris in 1755, where he died in 1809. 




























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